


Lokasenna

by WritingToAvenge



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard (Marvel), Gen, Growing up in Asgard, Pre-Thor (2011), Young Loki and Thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:10:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingToAvenge/pseuds/WritingToAvenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evil is born from innocence and all villains have their origins. This is Loki's. From his birth in Jotunheim to his youth in Asgard, Loki lives in the shadow of his brother and longs to be worthy enough for his father. What he finds though, is his own self, in all its villainous ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This series is intended to be a prequel to the first Thor movie. Any characters are not my own and belong to Marvel.

**Prologue**

 

Where before there was just the steady crackling of the fire, the air now shakes with the blast of a mighty horn. Instinctively Frigga reaches a steady hand towards Thor, covering his delicate ears in hopes that he would sleep a while longer, despite the noise. To her relief his small chest continues to rise and fall without a stirring of his eyes. Tucking the blanket around Thor ever tighter, securing his slumber with a soft kiss to his golden head, Frigga then turns towards the intrusion.

Though her heart always soars towards her throat whenever this happened, Frigga never shows it upon her face. Instead she takes a breath in and slowly lets it out as her shoulders fall back and she holds her head high as she walks down the torch-lit hallways. There is rustling and clashing, the sound of men returning home, and to her joy, the sound of triumphant cries. Her pace quickens slightly, her dress billowing out behind her with each step and cascading against slender ankles as she descends the large staircase that will lead her to the Hall of Asgard. The noise increases as she moves, slowly enveloping her like a tide coming in, until there is a mighty crashing wave.

While her initial thought had been concern at the sound of the horn, Frigga's face now finds a smile as she sees the large gathering before her. Thousands of Einherjar stand in the Hall, broken in formation and some broken in spirit or appearance as well, but all bow their heads slightly to their queen as she passes. Though her smile radiates towards all of those who fought bravely on Midgard against the Frost Giants, her eyes hold in reserve the fear that courses through her as she continues to not find what she seeks.

Frigga's mind becomes distracted for a time as she begins to assist others in guiding the injured Einherjar towards the medical facilities. There are some who bleed from wounds created by ice sharp enough to ravage flesh, others simply shake from the repercussions of a battle fought in frozen desolation. A shaking warrior, whom she knows to have a normally ruddy complexion, sits on the stairs leading up to the throne with skin an unnatural pale sheen. Slowly she kneels down in front of him, her initial mission abandoned entirely as she looks upon the young man. With slow, and then gentle, hands Frigga reaches out to clasp her own over his in an effort to stop his shaking. His hands are cold, far colder than anything here on Asgard, to her touch. Though it would be easy to pull her hands towards warmth and safety, she instead presses her fingers further against his, rubbing his cold ones back to life.

The young warrior looks up at her with a blank stare and then slowly begins to blink back towards reality. With a long shake of his head he clears his throat and says, “Apologies, my Queen, the Frost Giants were colder than I anticipated.”

He lets out a loud laugh that shakes his body, as if the laughter can calm his nerves. Gently Frigga asks, with a smile as warm as her hands, “Forgive me, for I must recall your name.”

“Volstagg, my Queen.”

“Ah, yes, the one who boasted that you would kill a legion of Frost Giants before you left. Did you accomplish such a feat?”

Volstagg's color begins to show on his cheeks again, not yet darkening to the same shade as his copper hair, but at least less pale than when she had first found him. With a shrug he responds, “Perhaps not a legion, my Queen, but many are in Hel by my hand. Midgard is safe now.”

“Such valiance and bravery will become songs, your family will be proud.”

“They will sing of Odin on this day, my Queen, not I.”

Frigga's eyes dart down towards Volstagg's warm hands and she shakes her head. Though she is afraid to hear the answer, she still asks, “What will they sing of my husband?”

Volstagg quickly utters with insistence, “My Queen, he is well, he took a beating from Laufey, but the King is alive.”

The breath Frigga had not realized she had been holding quickly escapes from her lips. Her heart begins to lower from the tight confines of her throat and the fear that she had hidden retreats even further from the surface of her skin. Looking up at Volstagg, her smile is bright and genuine now. “Not even Huginn and Muninn could have brought me such joyful news; I thank you.”

“Last I saw of him, my Queen, he was being led to the infirmary.”

“That is where I shall go then.” Frigga gives Volstagg's hands another gentle squeeze before she releases them. As she rises she continues, “I trust that you are warm enough now that you might begin assisting your fellow Einherjar.”

“A flagon of mead might warm me further,” Volstagg responds with another hearty chuckle as he rises as well, his legs less shaky than his entire body had been previously. “However, I think your task will do the same.”

Volstagg bows his head towards Frigga before she glides away from him. To run towards the infirmary would only cause alarm however. She knows that Odin is safe, yet she also desires nothing more than to affirm that what she has been told is indeed true. She thinks of Thor still sleeping soundly up in his room as she begins to make her way out of the Hall. Her son is still far too young to only remember his father as a distant memory or a fiction told in songs. While she is grateful that such a thing has not passed on this day, she still worries. Therefore she swiftly continues to follow the crowd that marches, slumps, or is being carried towards medical assistance, even as her nerves make her soul shake.

Golden halls and marble floors mean little when there is blood spilled upon and moans of pain echo across them. As greatly as Frigga tries to sooth injuries with gentle touches and warm words, she knows that there are many who have combated the Frost Giants that need more than her well wishes. Ahead of her a nurse struggles to keep an Einherjar upright and swiftly she moves to sling his other arm across her shoulder. The nurse looks towards Frigga and does not hesitate to move on. Other realms might have queens that faint at the sight of such misery and blood, but everyone knows that Asgard is not one of those realms.

He hefts the man up again and says to Frigga, “My thanks is yours, my Queen.”

“Have you seen my husband yet?” Frigga asks and immediately regrets that she was so hasty in her question.

Yet the man smiles and responds eagerly, “Yes, I shall bring you to him as soon as I see to this soldier here.”

“Now my thanks are yours.”

With an easier load on their shoulders, and therefore a quickened pace, the nurse leads Frigga towards the bustling medical facilities. Where there were calls and shouts of triumph and elation in the Hall, there are more groans and cries of pain in these rooms that are slowly filling up with wave upon wave of men and women fresh from the battlefield. As Frigga helps to lower the soldier in their arms to a bed, her own leg twitches. It is merely a phantom pain, but it causes Frigga to stop for a moment and remember days of past when she was in these very rooms herself, fresh from a battle as well.

Her hand brushes against the soft silk of her dress, a pale facade that covers the jagged scar below, and she minutely asks, “Where is the King?”

The nurse looks up from his patient, hazily as his hands are already covered in blood as he picks out shards of ice from the man they walked in. Shaking his head he closes his eyes for a moment and then they snap open as he responds, “Through there.”

Frigga follows his pointed and bloody finger, gives her gratitude, and swiftly makes her way towards the private room adjacent. Though fear had subsided when the young Volstagg had informed her that Odin is indeed alive, her worry heightens to a prickle upon her skin now as she knocks on the door and then discreetly slips in without introduction. Alive does not mean well, not if it means he is being treated in the privacy of this room when all times before Odin has insisted on being treated alongside the men who follow him.

What greets her however causes her hand to quickly find its way to her lips in order to stall a cry from uttering forth from them. She thanks that she was quick to shut the door behind her because the baby lets out a small cry at the sight of her. With wide eyes she stares at the small child in Odin's lap, squirming slightly against his hold.

For a moment, just a moment, Frigga forgets about the strange child, about the wounded outside, about the celebrating just beyond, and thinks only of her husband. Her heart beats just a little faster as she strides over to him and wraps her arms as best she can around his broad form. Relief and worry cause her fingers to shake ever so slightly as Frigga pulls away from him. Taking in details instead of focusing on a mere being, her mouth falls open in shock as she takes a step away to see the gaping hole where Odin's right eye used to be.

Before Frigga can even think to formulate and then execute a cognitive thought, Odin cups his hand affectionately against her cheek and says, “I can cover it up.”

Frigga knows that she could easily bring her hand up to his, press it against her skin all the more, and shut her eyes against the sight before her. Instead she keeps a steady gaze on him and responds, “Would you cover it up for my sake or for your vanity?”

A small smirk quirks at the corner of Odin's lips and he gently urges Frigga's head towards him in order to kiss her. Though the sight of his missing eye is no less gruesome than it was before upon second sight, Frigga's nerves are as calm as a pool of water as she looks at her husband. He is alive and that is all that matters to her.

Silently a physician slips in and deposits her tools on the table beside Odin. With a knowing nod he hands the child to Frigga before allowing the physician to begin her work, cleaning and sealing his wound as best she can. The baby is cold to the touch though as Frigga wraps her arms around him, his skin surely icy from whatever journey he has taken. Swiftly and instinctively Frigga moves to grab a spare blanket. Without thought, as the many times she has done this for Thor calibrates her movements, Frigga places the blanket on the examining table beside Odin and swaddles the child with it before lifting him into her arms once again.

While Frigga is curious as to the happenstances of her husband's wound, she instead asks a question that will invariably lead to the answer of this inquiry as well, “Who is this child?”

Odin's flinches slightly as the physician applies a rather powerful poultice to the angry flesh. He regains his concentration though as their gazes collectively fall on the small baby while he curls into Frigga's arms. Odin remains silent though as the physician finishes her work, wrapping a bandage around his head, covering the eye until it heals.

With a nod of approval and a quick assurance that she would check on him in the future, the physician makes her exit. As the door shuts behind her, Frigga looks down into the green eyes of the child that are beginning to droop in desired sleep. Though her first question was answered with silence, she tries again with a different musing, softly saying, “He was so cold before, he is feeling better now though.”

“He might never get entirely warm,” Odin responds as he rises from the examining table, his actions stiff and weary, though not entirely from exhaustion.

Frigga lifts the baby once more, curling him against her chest as his eyes fall towards complete sleep. Softly, her voice rising no higher than a gentle wind, she asks, “What do you mean?”

“He is Jotun.”

“Well, I've never said you don't get right to the point.” Though Odin remains immobile, Frigga begins to sway from side to side as the baby sleeps in her arms, clutching him tightly despite the new information about him. “Would you care to indulge me with the story?”

Odin's stance is ridged, his eyes never leaving Frigga's as he begins to tell her all, his pacifying voice the only reverberation in the room. “Only a few Midgardians met their end before we arrived. In the beginning the Jotun were hesitant to fight us, but then they came at us in full force. We held them as best we could, several meeting their own ends or becoming the wounded that you saw out there. The weapon Laufey had, it caused more damage than I anticipated. Heimdall assisted us in bringing the Jotun we were not able to defeat back to Jotunheim though. That is where I was able to corner Laufey. Though I urged his submission, he continued to fight.” Odin's hand draws up towards his missing eye. “He managed to liberate me of my eye before I was able to bring him to his knees. Their weapon, the Casket of Ancient Winters, is in our possession now. And so is he.”

Odin looks towards the baby now sleeping in Frigga's arms and her breath hitches ever so slightly. With a hushed voice, she asks seriously, “Is he a weapon as well, Odin?”

A single eye trails up towards her and Odin shakes his head as his shoulders relax slightly. “No, but he could break the need to have weapons against the Jotun. I let Laufey live, with a promise from him that he will rule Jotunheim quietly and with a promise from me that I would not interfere with Jotunheim unless necessary.”

“Peace?” Frigga's face lights up at the prospect. “You negotiated peace?”

“Yes, I did. He is a part of the peace treaty.”

“He, you keep saying he, please tell me this poor child has a name.”

“Laufey didn't name him when he was born.”

“Laufey?”

“He's Laufey's son.”

Frigga's face contorts in determination, not concern, as she pulls the child away from her for a moment. Being Jotun was one thing, being Laufey's son however was another, and Frigga feels that she has to confirm his appearance herself now. Cradling him in one arm, she lifts her free hand and runs it along his skin. Slowly his pale Asgardian skin retreats to show the blue of a Jotun. Her heart reaches out to the small child as she gently runs a finger along the ridges that ripple across his skin. Though he remains in slumber, she knows that if his eyes were to open she would see the red slits that scare children enough to look under their beds before lying to rest, lest a Frost Giant take them at night.

“I have never been as well versed in magic as you are,” Odin says as he takes a single step towards her and no more as his eye looks at the small Jotun in her arms, “therefore, I thought you might assist him.”

“For what purpose? To make him look like an Asgardian?”

“Yes.”

Frigga gives him a fierce glare. “So simple an answer needs further explanation.”

“Very well. You want the harsh truth, this baby is our hostage, Frigga. So long as Laufey keeps his peace, his son will live. There are many living here who are not Asgardian, this child is no different.”

“He is a prince, there is a great difference here, Odin.”

“He is the son of Laufey, he is no prince on Asgard.”

Frigga curls the child against her again, keeping him in his Jotun form, as she harshly states, “He is a prince on Jotunheim, therefore he is a prince here.”

“Frigga, he is a means to peace, that is all. He will be treated well here, but not as a prince.”

“He will be treated more than well. He will be treated as our son.”

Odin takes a step away from Frigga, his stance becoming tight and rigid again. His head shakes but once before he responds, “No.”

Lips only twitch upward at this response and instead of instantly rebutting them, Frigga turns to gently place the baby down on the examining table. Affectionately she looks down at him as she rests a hand against the chilled blue of his head. Slowly, just as before, his skin begins to change back towards a pale reflection of herself. Never taking her eyes away from the child, even as she focuses and concentrates all of her magical energy towards changing his appearance, she says to Odin, “You will convey to Laufey that his son will be treated with the dignity and honor that he deserves while he lives with us.”

“Laufey only relinquished him to me because he is so small.”

Frigga's gaze darts towards Odin. “Laufey has no other children, we have his only son. A small stature does not mean a small place in the world. You would do well to remember that.”

Odin remains silent for a moment, contemplating her words before he asks evenly, “What is your proposition then?”

“I have already given it to you,” Frigga responds as she lifts her hand away from the baby. “We will adopt him as our own and raise him as a prince, the way he should be.”

“And Thor?”

Frigga looks up, staring not at the baby, nor at Odin, but instead into the blank distance. In an instant she remembers the difficulties Thor had wracked her body with during birth. Though not even two years have passed since that moment, Frigga knows in her heart that even if they try for two years more her body would not be able to take hold of, let alone bear, another a child. A smile comes to her lips as the child babbles in his sleep, her eyes falling upon him again. “Thor will be delighted to have a brother.”

Odin scoffs slightly and Frigga instantly rounds on him even as he says, “I cannot raise a Jotun as my own.”

“He is no longer Jotun, Odin, he is Asgardian.”

“Looking the part is but a ruse, a cover so as not to scare anyone. He is the son of my enemy, I cannot call him my son, and you would do well to not insist this, to not get so attached.”

Frigga holds her ground, her back ridged and her eyes as icy as the realm the warriors just came from. “You take this child as a hostage in hopes of peace. What do you offer Laufey in regards to your own good intentions towards peace? By not attacking him, by not destroying Jotunheim right here and now when you could? Poor excuses, ones not worthy of a wise and just king. Laufey gave his son to you, the best way you can extend your hand in peace is to adopt this boy, raise him as a prince, and show Laufey that he is not a pawn, but instead a bridge between our worlds.” Her demeanor softens at this idea. “A Jotun raised as an Asgardian. Think of it, Odin, such a thing has never been done before. He is the peace we have been looking for between our realms. To treat him as a hostage only means you are loosening your grip on Laufey's throat. To treat him as your own means you are holding a familiar hand out to Laufey. Now, will you accept him as your son or must I further explain politics to you?”

Odin's gaze had slowly fallen towards the floor in shame as Frigga spoke. His one eye now looks at his feet as he ponders her argument. He realizes that it is just and sound, yet to have a son not of his own flesh and blood troubles him. Centuries of knowing the Jotun only as enemies and now his wife proposes to make one family, the feeling creeps in like a chill across his skin. Pursing his lips he looks up and finally meets Frigga's unrelenting gaze. Thor, will always be his first born, his heir, and Odin realizes this completely. He also realizes that to have the child of an enemy close, to mold him into something entirely new and unprecedented, is something he should take advantage of for the sake of peace not only in Asgard, but in the whole of the Nine Realms.

Though he folds his arms over his chest, Odin nods towards the sleeping baby and asks Frigga, “What name shall we give our son?”

Only a small smile of triumph comes to Frigga's face before she turns to scoop the sleeping child up into her arms again. Already there is a spark of love in her eyes as she looks at him and responds, “Loki, for he will break down the barriers between worlds.”

“High expectations for a child.”

Frigga shakes her head lightly as Odin takes a step towards her and Loki. “You have already put expectations upon Thor. Loki should be no different.”

Gently Odin rests a hand against Loki's head, thumb rubbing across smooth skin that once bore ridges. Gently he asks, “We will keep him in this appearance though, until the time is right to tell him he is Jotun.”

“Agreed, until the time is right he will remain Asgardian entirely.” A broad smile breaks across her face now as she adds, “He will always remain our son though.”

Odin's hand drops away, though his is still eager to please his joyful wife. “Yes, he will.”

Realization and shock wrack through Frigga. “By the Norns, there are so many things I have to do now, so many preparations to be made for a baby.”

Soothingly Odin clasps his hand around her shoulder and brings her towards him to gently kiss her forehead. “All will be done according to your wishes.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs before she cradles Loki closer to her.

Though chaos, bloodshed, and cries of pain from war lie just beyond the door, Frigga concerns herself only with the glimmer of hope that rests peacefully in her arms.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 

A flickering glimmer of green light sparks from Loki's curled fingertips. Though but a pale reflection of a flame, it lights the way along the empty passage well enough. With a face set in neutrality, and ears perked towards any noise, Loki slowly sets out. The only sound that accompanies him is the creaking of his bedroom door shutting behind him and even that is but a small murmur in the stillness. There is a slight shuffling from tired Einherjar as they keep their posts, however their eyes never waver from in front of them as Loki cloaks himself against their gaze as he moves. Feet slide silently across marble, nimble hands reach out to corners before eyes follow, and in the shadows Loki finds peace.

It is always far too noisy in the day. With the training out in the courtyards of the barracks and lessons in the auditoriums, there is barely a moment filled with just a whisper. Even in the library, a sanctuary of quiet thought, there is still enough disturbances to make Loki wrinkle his nose while it is pressed into a captivating book. At night though, when all are asleep, there is nothing. There is peaceful silence and a smile comes to Loki's face as he tiptoes towards the lower reaches of the palace.

There is something elating, something that makes his heart race a little faster, when he sneaks out at night. Practicality and obligation have a tight hold on him during the day, strung out by orders and duties from those insisting that they are teaching him when really he taught himself the material long ago. The only teacher who keeps his wandering mind occupied in the daylight hours is his mother. Sitting on cushioned benches beside the balcony that overlooks the Bifrost, Loki learns more of the universe in a single hour with Frigga than he does all day with his other tutors.

Loki allows the green flame emanating from his fingertips to burn a little brighter as he reaches his destination. Though he is entering one of the most heavily protected rooms in Asgard, there are no Einherjar around, and with that in mind he swallows hard against nerves. He may learn of magic from Frigga and warfare from Volstagg, but there is still one thing he wishes to learn tonight. With a less than steady hand, Loki reaches and strains to open just one side of the massive double doors. He extinguishes the flame that has lit the way for him thus far, but only to grab the handle with both hands. With an unwavering determination Loki is able to open the door just enough for his slender form to slip through.

Nose wrinkles and eyes shut in a jarring flinch as the door shuts loudly behind Loki. He dares to look behind him, as if expecting to see a dozen Einherjar waiting for him right then and there due to his disturbance. To his relief he sees no one and, more importantly, hears no one. Allowing a smirk to spread across his face for a moment of celebration at his entirely clever endeavor, Loki then sparks his fingers alight again. There was no pain as he does this, as the flames are but a casting of fire, not fire in reality. Yet each time he does it he still marvels at the sparks that fly forth from his fingertips and cast up into the sky just as real fire does. It was only two weeks ago that Frigga had taught him the trick and he waited patiently until now to use it to his advantage.

Slowly Loki steps further into Odin's vault. The cavernous ceilings echo even though the only sound is Loki's bare feet paddling across the floor. It is cold in these depths, as he is far below the palace and enough items in this vault emanate a frost that causes a slight chill. Yet Loki's fascination keeps him warm as he begins to look around, the dull light in his hands bringing to life all that he has only briefly seen before.

It has been several years since Odin brought both Thor and Loki down into his vault to speak to them of the dangers of the Frost Giants and the other evils of the universe. That had been their lesson that day, that rare day when Odin relinquished enough time to teach his son's a small lesson in the ruling of the Nine Realms through the telling of battles fought not so long ago. Though Thor's eagerness to smash the Frost Giants was enough to make Loki smile at his ambitious brother, Loki had always remembered that there was more in this vault than just the Casket of Ancient Winters. Therefore Loki had boded his time, patiently waiting until he knew he could sneak in here alone.

Now the vastness of it all was cast into a green glow and eager eyes began to take in all that has only been myths and legends before now. A golden glimmer catches Loki's eyes and he turns towards a simple piece of weaponry that adorns the first alcove in the vault. Empty caverns anoint the gilded gauntlet that resides in ceremony atop a pillar. Alongside stories of monsters like the Frost Giants and Dark Elves, Loki remembers being told of the evil that can come from this gauntlet. Yet, the sight of it does not strike the fear that Loki thought would come from seeing such an object. He chides himself as he brushes a hand against the cold metal, knowing full well that it is hardly dangerous in such a state. It is not until the six infinity gems of the universe reside in the empty caverns that it truly becomes a thing of destruction.

Loki turns towards another alcove on the other side of the vault, his eyes falling on something far less glittering and far more old. Even with all of his learning, all of his knowledge of languages and magic, he knows that he will be incapable of translating what is on the tablet before him. It is a mighty slab of stone, jagged in some areas, and though the rest is incomprehensible the runes are not. Loki runs a hand over them as he reads, “Those who sit above in shadow.” He shakes his head slightly, incapable of believing that this riddle filled stone is the key to unlocking immortality. Loki knows he has no such need for such a thing, however, he might have need for the orb that stands just beyond this stone.

Feet slide across the floor as Loki's eyes shine in the pale light of the Orb of Agamotto. Such a preposterous name, Loki thinks to himself, as he reaches out a hand towards it but then thinks the better of it. Though he knows he grows in his magic every day, he is still hesitant to know the full powers of the orb and all the gateways between dimensions it opens. Yet, with a tilt of his head, he thinks that perhaps tonight will not be the only night that he wanders into the vault alone. Such an idea makes his stomach flutter and his heart race again in elation.

Loki's heart races even more as he whips around, thinking he heard a small creak from the other end of the vault. However, his eyes only meet the soft blue glow of the Casket of Ancient Winters. Though he takes a step towards it, he goes no further than an arm's reach. He knows the pain that would ripple through him if he were to touch the Casket, that the frozen powers of the Frost Giants would still his blood and turn his skin blue in death. So his eyes wander towards something far more warm next to it. It is a flame that is more eternal than the one he can hold in his hand. The mystical flame of Surtur was a tale Loki had not heard from the history books, but from Odin one night while a banquet was held and warriors spoke of their past deeds. It had come to Odin through a battle he fought in the first years of his reign, however, Loki had rolled his eyes at the gallantry of the tale for he knew very well his father had stolen it. Though the flame can never be extinguished, an impressive feat, Loki moves away from it and his mind wanders towards what he is purposefully seeking. Surely it has to be around here somewhere, he thinks, I know it is just not where.

Stalking around the vault, Loki tries to find what he seeks and all the while keeps an ear trained for any noise that might come from outside. A few eager moments in here is fine, but now he is bordering on taking more time than he anticipated. Then, with a warm wash of relief, he sees it propped not on a pillar, nor in its own alcove, but instead resting against a back wall. In an instant Loki flicks away the flames on his fingertips as his eyes fall upon Mjolnir. Forged in the heart of a dying star and forged forever in Loki's memory as the one thing in this vault that can determine the true worth of a man he marvels at how normal it looks. All else here, all other objects of magic or otherwise, bring power and knowledge. Without a doubt these are things that Loki cherishes, but they are also things that can be accumulated throughout time. The measure of a man is something born of heart, not of mind, and Loki has a mind to see how much his heart is worth tonight.

Though tales of the Frost Giants had been entertaining on that day past when Odin had taken Loki and Thor in hand to show them what he had gained from his war against Jotunheim, he had also said something that still echoes in Loki's mind. Finding arrogance unbecoming, Loki has never spoken about his thoughts, but they bleed silently and internally now as he stares at Mjolnir. He is born to be a king, without a doubt Loki knows that, yet he also knows that Thor is the first born. It is not the throne he wants though, as it is merely a seat, a symbol that can easily lack true power and leadership. It is the knowledge that he is worthy enough to rule that he desires.

By the light of Surtur's mystical flame Loki approaches Mjolnir. It looks so humble, so simple as its handle rests easily against the wall. Though his arms are not yet as large as Thor's, a teenager who is already nearly a man in appearance, he still knows that he is able to fight just as well with his lithe muscles. He can easily pick up anything with ease that is the size of Mjolnir. Yet, he also knows, that he could be incapable of lifting Mjolnir for it is not physical strength that welds it.

Though his hand shakes slightly in anticipation, Loki still reaches out for the ridged, leather bound handle of the mighty hammer. Nimble fingers slide across and then around, until a grip is formed. Magic had played upon his fingertips before, now they feel the power that radiates from Mjolnir. Taking a long, deep breath in, Loki attempts to lift it.

A small grunt escapes his lips as he struggles to lift the hammer, yet is unable to. Though he knows that a second attempt will be in vain, he tries none the less. Positioning himself differently and gaining a better hold on it, Loki tries again. The same results find him and he loosens his grip to find pinpricks radiating across his palm. He shakes his hand slightly to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling and stares at the hammer as it remains mockingly complacent in its same position.

Gritting his teeth, Loki rises up and is about to place both hands on the handle, to really give it a run for his strength, when he suddenly stops. Shoulders slump and head bows as he finally admits to himself that nothing he does will change what has been decided in this moment. He knows he is not worthy and for that his undeserving heart sinks into the depths of despair. A shallow sigh emanates from his parted lips and though he would like nothing more than to just reach a single finger towards Mjolnir, the very idea sends a shiver of hatred down his spine. It is not a hatred towards the hammer, no it is a hatred towards himself.

Instead Loki takes a step away from Mjolnir, keeping a steady gaze on it even as he wraps his arms around himself, holding a semblance of comfort in the chill of the vault. He begins to wonder a great deal of things, a great deal of hurtful and horrible things that makes the body curl into itself and a snarl come across even the kindest of faces, as it does now to Loki. Why am I not worthy? He asks himself with an empty hollowness in the words that only meet in his mind and do not form upon his lips.

Though youth still shows on his face, he believed that after nearly a hundred years he would be old enough to prove his worth with Mjolnir. He has already proven his worth in every other field of study. Why can this stupid hammer not see that? Resentment begins to wash over him, a curdling and desperate anger that leaves him clutching his sides all the harder as he wraps his arms tighter around himself. I am meant to be a king, a king needs to be worthy, he thinks bitterly to himself. Fingernails spark with green fire as he digs them into his side.

Despite all of his father's endearments and urging, Loki knows deep down in his sinking heart that he will never be king. Not now, not when he is not worthy. His father can lift Mjolnir and he is sure Thor is able to as well, though he has never said as such. Yet Loki swallows hard as he once again tells himself, as he so often has to when they both stand before him, that he is not like his father or like Thor. That is all he wanted from tonight though, all he has ever wanted whenever his father smiles at Thor and does not at him. Loki knows he would rather spend time with his mother, learning her crafts and wisdom, any day. However, once, just once he wished his father would lend him a kind word.

There are times when Thor is not even given a kindness from their father, merely receiving the same reprimanding discussions and lectures that Loki receives. Yet, to be able to lift Mjolnir, now that would give his father cause to praise. Loki laughs harshly in the abject silence and thinks to himself that even if he were to show his father that he is worthy enough to lift Mjolnir, Thor would come along and lift it as well. Though Loki finds no fault in the idea of them being equal, their father would not treat it as such. He would praise Thor for a feat Loki accomplished first and such a thought brings a bitter taste to Loki's mouth.

Perhaps it is better that I am incapable of lifting it, Loki finally concedes. Yet the bitterness is not gone, the thought of unworthiness still burdens his soul. Fingers begin to remove themselves from flesh and arms flex towards action. Once more, just one more time, Loki thinks. Perhaps if I realize that I know I am not worthy, that I find humbleness in my thoughts, then Mjolnir will recognize my abilities. Though these thoughts spring to Loki's mind his actions are abruptly stopped.

“Stop, Loki,” a steady voice says, frightening Loki entirely.

Instantaneously he springs away from Mjolnir and though his footing holds him in a fighting position, he has no weapon to wield. Tense muscles relax though as Loki looks upon the calm face of his mother. Frigga tilts her head in silent question as she wraps her robe around her tighter. Shaking his head, Loki manages to sputter, “Mother, I just...”

“It's the middle of the night, what are you doing here?”

Loki's jaw sets a little tighter as still fresh opinions press against the dam that keeps his thoughts from formulating spoken words. He merely shrugs and mutters, “Apologies.”

Frigga's face softens as she looks down at Mjolnir and back towards her disgruntled son. Soothingly she tries again, though concern still touches her voice, “I am incapable of picking it up as well.”

Loki lets out a short laugh and rolls his eyes. “I doubt that.”

“You're right, some days I can pick it up.”

“What?” Loki questions, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

Frigga smiles brightly. “That's the trick with Mjolnir, some days you might be worthy, other days you might not be. A heart can change, Loki, that is what she is driven by, the heart.”

“I knew that coming in here.” Though he scoffs at his mother, her smile remains.

“And yet you are still disappointed.”

“Of course I'm disappointed.”

“Even though you could very well pick it up tomorrow?”

Loki rolls his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. Shaking his head, as if trying to show just how ridiculous she is being, Loki responds, “One cannot find worth overnight.”

“One can gain worth in a single moment, Loki.” She takes a step towards him and points at his heart. “Perhaps that is what causes you trouble. You think worth can be found, when really it is something to be gained. It is not something you acquire like knowledge, or culminate like magic, it is simply something that is within you, even if you do not know it is there.”

Though Loki is touched by her words he is still not entirely convinced. “I'm not a child anymore, you cannot console me with words filled with uplifting morals and stories with hopeful endings.”

“Why not when such is life, if you so make it?”

“Yes, but it's a choice. I can choose to be happy or not.” He turns and points at Mjolnir. “That however is not a choice, as you so say. Being worthy is not something I can chose like any other emotion or trait, it merely is something I gain without my knowing. I do not like such a prospect, it is too unpredictable and unreliable.”

“But is that not the way of our world too? Is unpredictability and unreliability not also something we choose to be?”

Loki turns back to Frigga and responds resolutely, “It's not something I choose to be.”

“Even if there are advantages to being such?”

“Father and Thor do not...”

Gracefully Frigga lifts up a single hand to silently stop Loki from going any further and in an instant he ceases his words. She nods her head towards Mjolnir again, asking, “Have they become the motivation for this stunt?”

“I hardly call this a stunt.”

A hazy shimmer begins to grow around Frigga and in patches she gradually begins to disappear. Left in the middle of the empty vault with lips quirked up in amusement Loki merely waits for his mother to reappear. As predicted, and as seen before, Frigga reappears and so does her point, saying, “That was a stunt.”

“One you still have yet to teach me, yet I see you perform it all the time.”

“All in good time, Loki.” Her smile is filled with warmth even as she looks towards Mjolnir again. “The same can be said of a great many things.”

Loki closes his eyes for a moment, unable to look at either his mother or Mjolnir. As he slowly opens them he softly responds, “My impatience has gotten the better of me, even though I believed I came to this moment in patience.”

“Never apologize for eagerness, only apologize when it has blinded you from seeing the right path towards achievement.”

A smile begins to cross Loki's face as his mother's kind smile and words begin to seep into his soul like a warm fire. A thought crosses his mind though and he voices it. “I would like to be worthy someday, but I do not know what will allow me to be worthy.”

“Sadly, I cannot tell you what will make you worthy either. You must find it on your own.” Frigga pauses for a moment as she looks deep into her son's eyes, locking her gaze with his entirely as she continues, “However, I will do whatever I can to help you find your worth. Even though I already believe that you are filled with a great deal of it.”

“A mother's love can hardly compare to the truth of Mjolnir.”

Frigga laughs lightly as she tugs at her robe again. “I can try.”

Loki's gaze falls towards the floor as he softly says, “My apologies for coming down here.”

Clasping her hand in front of her Frigga merely shrugs her shoulders and responds, “Nothing is off limits to you, Loki.”

“Perhaps sometime soon I can come here in the manner that you have come now.”

“Soon, but not too soon, you still have a great deal to learn.”

Loki groans comically while the last bit of tension and anger melts from him. “Every day you say that.”

“And every day it will remain true. No one is done learning.” She turns her head to stifle a sigh before saying, “Now, get to bed or soon it will be tomorrow and I will be too tired to teach you anything.”

“Apologies, Mother, I will go right now.”

Loki only sees his mother's knowing and kind smile before she disappears with a shinning glow. Though he knows better, he still looks over his shoulder at Mjolnir one last time. It still mocks him, at least so he feels with a steady ache in his heart, yet he does not reach a hand out to it again. One day, he swears to himself, one day I will be worthy enough. Yet, he also muses, perhaps Mother is right, that time is needed. If calculation, patience, understanding, and comprehension of what is at hand is what Loki needs to accomplish his desire, he knows very well that he is capable of it.

Therefore a rueful smirk comes to his face as he turns away from Mjolnir and stiff feet make their way towards the massive doors of the vault. He pauses just before the door however and allows his gaze to fall on one last object. Though its blue tint makes it seem like it belongs beside the Casket of Ancient Winters, it is far and away from the Jotun weapon. It is not because the Casket is more powerful, it is because the small blue cube residing in the cushion of a stone bed is immeasurably more powerful. Loki's eyebrow arches at the Tesseract before he silently exits the vault doors.

Swiftly Loki sneaks through passages already once traveled tonight, cloaking himself when need be against the guarding Einherjar, and relishes for one last moment in the silent stillness of the palace at sleep. Though he is mere feet away from his own bedroom, Loki pauses in front of another door for a moment. It is near identical to all of the other doors along the hallway, including his own, yet he knows that Thor sleeps just beyond.

Loki presses his right hand against the stout wood and hopes that Frigga does indeed teach him the art of projecting his own image elsewhere in the near future. For now though, he closes his eyes and thinks of what lies beyond the wood beneath his hand. Only a small crease of concentration comes to his face as he recalls his brother's room in his mind, a thing he finds as easy to recall as his own room. On a table beside Thor's bed there is always a pitcher of water and in his mind Loki reaches out for it and slowly lifts it from its resting place. Carefully, so as not to make a sound just yet, Loki levitates the pitcher of water in the air, rising it high. He lifts his left hand, flicks his wrist ever so slightly, and in his mind he can see the pitcher move towards Thor's bed.

With careful precision and a steady mind, Loki keeps the pitcher hovered over Thor's sleeping form, a massive intertwined lump of blankets and body. Nimble fingers fly through the air like a musician's against a harp and slowly water begins to drip out of the pitcher. From the other side of the door Loki can hear his brother let out a small snore. Flicking his wrist once more he allows more water to pour out of the pitcher and a smile begins to broaden across his face.

Rain drops sprinkle across Thor's face and slowly it becomes a storm as Loki allows the pitcher to cascade over his brother. From his deep slumber Thor jolts awake with a great sputter and, though Loki cannot see it, with eyes wide in shock. Loki can hear, however, as Thor lets out a powerful growl that can be felt through his hand, across his arm, and down through his whole body.

Swiftly he removes his hand and hears the pitcher hit the ground with a metal clang. Scurrying towards his own door, Loki laughs under his breath as he hears Thor rage in realization and bellows for his brother to answer for his trick.

 


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**  
** Loki takes a deep breath in and slowly lets it out as his eyes dart between Thor and Sif. Though the blades they wield are both double in nature, they each only present one with arms slack instead of poised for battle. Gritting his teeth Loki snarls, “Well, come on, come at me.”

Both Thor and Sif look at each other, their gazes vexed with hesitation. Finally Thor heavily shrugs his shoulders and says worryingly to Loki, “We're not going to risk it.”

“What? Why not?” Loki's stance goes lax in light of their hesitation. “I've told you that no harm will come to me.”

“You say that,” Sif says with equal trepidation in her voice, “but how can you know for sure?”

There is conviction in Loki's voice as he responds, “I'm sure. Now come at me.”

Sif shakes her head and holds her sword down. “No, if you are to die it will not be by my hand.”

“Very well. Thor?”

Though Loki responds kindly to Sif, he turns now to his brother and pleads with only his eyes for him to not follow the same path. Thor holds his gaze on Loki, their eyes silently arguing with one another and anger is only shown through the furrowing of a brow or the wrinkling of a nose. Finally Thor raises his sword, his tense muscles flexing towards a fight, and Loki smiles before falling into the same stance. The only difference between them is that Loki holds no weapon. 

Yet determination creases into every bit of Loki's being as he steadily holds up his arms and nods his readiness. Though Thor gives a final shake of discontent, he still firms his grip on his sword before taking a step towards Loki. Though there are others practicing in the courtyard as well, the dull drum of them quickly dies away. For Loki and Thor eyes, ears, and nerve endings, it all belongs to each other in this singular moment. Carefully they begin to circle each other, their feet dancing upon the soft ground. While they each give no indication of springing forward, they both desperately want to. 

“Are you sure of this?” Thor asks in a hushed tone that only Loki can hear as he edges ever closer to his opponent. 

“Of course I'm sure,” Loki responds with ease, “now attack me already.”

Though Thor's face sets towards purpose as he thrusts his sword at Loki, there is little power in it. Loki easily jumps away and chides, “Really, Thor, is that the best you can offer me?”

At this Thor lets out a slight growl and thrusts again, the whole extent and power of his arm delivering a blow that slashes in front of Loki. And yet Loki is not there. Thor turns about, confused as to where his brother went when he suddenly sees a flash of green light and feels a sharp pain at his side. Doubling over, Thor clutches his sword close against his body as his left hand feels for the wound that radiates from his stomach. He glances at his fingers that do not seep with blood before he jumps up quickly and raises his sword at the ready. Before he can move to react, Loki is before him again and another flash of green haze shoots his way. It hits him across his weapon wielding shoulder this time, forcing a bellow of pain to emanate from him before the sword clatters to the ground. 

Teeth grit not in pain, but in anger, as Thor looks up and searches for his brother who is once again nowhere to be seen. His entire body tenses though as he feels long limbs snake easily around his throat. Loki's forearm presses against his windpipes and his elbow braces against the junction at his shoulder as he whispers into his brother's ear, “Surrender?”

Thor smirks as he grabs hold of Loki's forearm with his own massive hand, crouches and then springs up to throw Loki over the top of his head. The wind knocks out of Loki's lungs as he lands on his back, looking up at the blue sky above and wondering how he got here. The sun quickly dims as Thor's massive form blocks it while he leers over Loki's outstretched form. Boldly Thor asks, “Surrender?”

Loki's face holds an air of defeat as he slowly nods his head and reaches out his hand for his brother to take. With a wide grin Thor reaches his hand out to clasp Loki's, in an effort to help him up, when a wooden pillar, meant for training the endurance of strength, comes barreling at him. Thor only has enough time to retract his hand before the pillar slams horizontally into his stomach and drags him but a few feet before he looses his balance entirely and falls to the ground. Though the pillar is easy enough for him to lift, the breath is taken out of him and for a moment Thor merely lies there before shrugging it off. 

Rising up to a knee, Thor looks over at Loki and shakes his head. With a low voice he says, “I hate your tricks.”

It is Loki who stands over Thor now, blotting out the sun with his smaller frame, as he responds, “I rather like my tricks.”

“It's unfair,” Sif interjects as she strides up to them, having been witness to the entire ordeal. 

Thor rises to his full height and nods his head in agreement. Yet Loki can only shake his head in disbelief as he responds, “I have my weapons and you have yours. Would you complain that an ax cuts through a foil in the same manner?”

“That is not the same thing, Loki,” Thor says as he picks up his sword again. “You compare a weapon to a weapon in your example. Yet you compare a weapon to magic in your actions.”

“Magic is a weapon, that is the point I am trying to make.”

“It is not noble.”

“And a sword is? Magic does far less damage than any other weapon you two wield.”

Loki had not realized how close he had gotten to Thor as he spoke until Sif's sword comes down between them, a metal barrier between a battle of words. She raises an eyebrow at both of them and says evenly, “You both fought admirably, you both bested each other. Can we be done now?”

“Just as I get here?” The trio groan slightly in unison as Fandral jumps over to them, his eyes trailing behind him to make sure their tutor's do not see him sneaking in. 

“You're late,” Sif responds curtly and with the fact that is on everyone's mind. 

“I'm always late,” Fandral offers her a dashing smile. “Makes me more predictable that way and I have found that people like that in a man.”

“Fandral!” Volstagg, their weapons trainer, bellows and instantly Fandral flinches. With some sense of dignity Fandral turns to face his fate, but before he can say anything Volstagg continues with a calm voice, “Where's your weapon? Or has someone relieved you of it already?”

Loki flicks his wrist and a foil sword skids towards Fandral's feet. With a joyful smile he reaches down to retrieve the weapon and holds it aloft for Volstagg to see. Triumphantly, he responds, “I lost it for but a moment.”

“See that I can say the same about your mind soon,” Volstagg adds with a knowing smirk as he turns back to his other pupils. 

Thor lets out a snort of a laugh once Volstagg is well away and Fandral only smiles all the brighter. While Thor continues his conversation with Fandral, one that finds quietness by the sound of swords meeting each other as they spar, Loki's gaze falls towards the ground beneath him. Though he knows that he was able to trump Thor, the thought of being bested by his brother at all still irks in the forefront of his mind. He silently reprimands himself for allowing Thor to get an upper hand in such a way when he should have held the fight the entire time. 

Sif's soft voice comes to him in the haze of his own grumbling though as she asks, “Will you always shy away from a sword?”

Loki's fierce gaze darts up to meet her humbly curious eyes. He shakes his head as he begins to circle her in mock battle. Though she raises her sword, it is merely for appearance sake as the eyes of tutor's begins to fall on them more intently now that Volstagg had made a point to approach them. Princes of Asgard though they may be, Thor and Loki both know that they are equal to the other students in the field of training and must act accordingly. Yet Loki is still compelled to reply lightly as he lifts his hands and they burn with a green fire, “I will always prefer using a weapon that can change when my circumstances change.”

“A sword is reliable and can change with battle.”

“From one blade to two? That is hardly change, Sif.”

She scoffs at him as she lightly swings her blade towards his head and he easily ducks. As he rises again she responds, “You are missing the point, it is not the weapon that is important, it is the person wielding it.”

“And you are missing my point. That battles do not have to be fought with forged metal.”

“Magic is but a trick, Loki, it is not meant to be in the battlefield.”

It is Loki's turn to scoff as the fire on his fingertips glows to form an orb that he then throws towards Sif. She slides her sword just in time to connect with it and the magic ricochets off of metal. Swiftly she pulls forth a dagger at her belt and with a twist, sends it flying towards Loki. Instinctively Loki raises his hands in front of his face and the knife halts in mid-air. Both he and Sif stare at the weapon, but with two completely different expressions on their face. While Loki's green eyes are wide with disbelief that Sif threw such a weapon at him, Sif on the other hand merely smirks deviously. Nodding towards the blade she says simply, “Perhaps your concern with weaponry comes not from that it is made of solid metal, but the size of it.”

Loki's previously wide eyes narrow now as he glares at Sif, though this does not lessen her smirk. With a bite in his words he asks, “Are you presuming that I care about the size of certain things in relation to my ego?”

Sif lets out a light laugh at this and points the tip of her sword towards Loki. The small dagger turns in the air, so that the blade points towards Sif and, with a single breath of hesitation, Loki takes hold of the handle. The dagger feels heavy in his hand, he even gives it a small bounce to test its balance, before he grips it tightly. Though he is loath to wield a weapon, Loki arches a curious eyebrow towards Sif, silently wondering why she chose this small thing above any other weapon in this courtyard.

She answers his unasked question with a shrug. “I thought a dagger would be more to your liking, that's all.”

“Is this another jest at my size?” Out of habit Loki's gaze flits towards Thor as he continues to spar with Fandral. 

Sif's face drops towards a true innocence as she shakes her head. “Of course not. I of all people should know that size is not what wins battles, am I not?”

Loki shies away from her gaze at this, remembering just how hard she has worked to get where she is in their ranks, before he nods his agreement. Looking up at her again he says, “Very well, you have convinced me for the moment to try a real weapon.”

Lowering her sword to her side, Sif takes an ease filled stance. “I never said you had to use one or the other. That is what those oafs believe.”

Loki glaces towards his brother again, following her nodding head. As he watches Thor overcome Fandral, making his opponent's foil skid across the sand, Loki licks his lips as he ponders. “Are you suggesting I use both magic and small weapons?”

“I suggest you use your brain, but since you rarely have that in abundance, I suppose an agreement to your question is in order.”

Though Loki's eyes glare at Sif once again, he cannot help but smile lightly as well at her quick banter. From the corner of his eye Loki sees Thor cast aside his sword and barrels at Fandral. There is a distant cry of despair from Fandral that the pair choose to ignore as Thor wrestles their friend with mighty arms. Instead Loki kindly asks Sif, “I know not how to wield this, would you show me?”

Though Loki knows that Sif could easily come back with a quick gibe towards his request, she instead holds her head a little higher and responds affectionately, “Absolutely, follow me.”

Leaving behind the grunting and pitiful pleas of wanted assistance from Fandral, Loki follows Sif towards a more secluded section of the courtyard. In front of them are wooden targets, ones usually intended for archery practice but will serve just as well for their purpose, and behind merely an empty colonnaded hallway. There is a feeling of seclusion here, even with the haze of others still practicing behind them, and for that Loki feels more at ease. 

“Alright, the first thing you need to do is simply get a feel for the blade,” Sif says honestly as she places her hands on her hips. 

Loki twists the handle slightly in his hand and looks at her with some confusion. “I believe such a lesson has already been learned.”

Sif shakes her head. “I speak not of simply holding it, Loki. Try tossing it in the air.”

Without hesitation Loki does as she orders and though his fingers are fast, they are not fast enough and the dagger quickly clatters to the ground. Knowing that he will meet a knowing smirk, he reaches down to take hold of the dagger again and quickly says, “I suppose you will now give me some speech about how the blade should become an extension of my arm or something of the like.”

“No, I was going to say, 'try again'.”

Loki tilts his head slightly as he rises, the dagger firmly in his hand once more, and wonders at the patience and ability of Sif. Without a doubt he knows that she has had to overcome a great deal of criticism and resentment, ever since she was a small girl wanting to do more than not only the other girls but than the boys as well. While Thor has always been vociferous about his support of Sif, at least after she bested him in mock battle, Loki has always been silent in his admiration. Yet he holds admiration none the less for the woman who has bested not only Thor, but all the other boys that are in the courtyard at this moment. For it was not entirely in her strength that she was able to do this, but in her mind as well. 

Realizing that Sif is his best chance to learn this new skill of wielding a dagger, at least attempting it before deciding if he is to keep the skill, Loki holds the weapon a little firmer and nods for her to continue. With an even tone and a straight face, Sif continues, “Toss it lightly, do not fling it into the air, just let your hand get used to the weight of it. Feel the balance, feel the points where it is heaviest in your hand and where it feels like it is going to tip forward.”

Loki follows all Sif's instructions, silently following everything as best he can and trying again if he fails. For brief moment, with a pause in her speech, Loki looks behind him and sees that everything is carrying on as usual. He is unsure if the tutors are simply staying away for their own reasons or if a swift glance from Sif is keeping them at bay. Either way he is grateful that they maintain their solitude, he is loath to display his lacking abilities in front of a group. Loki turns his attention back to Sif and, as the sun begins to rise higher, she begins to instruct him on how to throw the dagger properly. 

“Well then, I suppose you should try your hand at the target then,” Sif says with some trepidation in her once steady voice. Though Loki hears her hesitation, he still urges her on with an encouraging nod as he prepares to follow her advice. “Hold the handle firmly, yes, like that, all fingers wrapped around it tightly, as you would a hammer, and make sure your thumb is over the top. Excellent, yes, just like that.”

Loki's eyebrow raises slightly as he questions, “Like a hammer?”

“What? It is the only thing I can think of. Surely even you have held a hammer before? Or has your royal status deprived you of such a humble honor?”

Laughing lightly, Loki shakes his head. “I have held a hammer before, I have built things, this is just not the hammer I would like to have in my hands.”

The only hint of Sif's true curiosity comes from her eyes narrowing just slightly. However, she quells her desire to inquire further and instead turns back to the matter at hand. “Now that you have your grip, you need your stance.”

Loki turns to face the targets and falls towards a swordsman's stance, with his right leg out in front of his left and his body turned sideways. It is instinctive and yet he instantly knows he has done something wrong as Sif lets out a small huff of agitation. Looking at her he simply asks, “And how should it be done?”

Though Sif opens her mouth to give instruction, she instead quickly clamps it shut and turns towards a demonstrative approach. Gently Sif places her hand on Loki's shoulder and guides him to face the target head on. Taking a step to her right she comes around and glides a hand across Loki's dagger holding forearm. Her eyes face the target as she begins to instruct again, softly saying, “You want to face your target completely and depending on how far away your target is depends on where you raise your arm. The target is not far away, it is a rather close-range, therefore you will want to lift your arm completely.”

With her hand guiding his forearm, he relents with ease as she urges him to bend his arm and hold the dagger aloft. Sif has been able to toss him to the ground and dig a sword point into his throat, yet now her touch is gentle and it unnerves Loki for a moment. He swallows hard and asks, “And I hold the dagger back like this?”

“Yes, keep your elbow up and keep your hand parallel to your ear. Now, when you throw the knife shift your weight forward, your left leg needs to come forward to balance yourself and that will help give you the necessary power to throw the dagger properly. Are you prepared?”

“Prepared yes, sure in my abilities no.”

“There is no one around, the worse you can do is hit one of those pillars there and believe me, they have seen worse than a dagger.”

Loki smiles slightly ask he asks, “Have a story to share do you?”

In return though he only receives Sif rolling her eyes. “Just keep your eye on the target and throw the dagger.”

Though her response is curt Loki still maintains his smile as he turns towards his target. With eyes set and his mind recalling all that Sif has just relayed to him, Loki allows his body to take action. With an ease like the wind and the strength of a thousand men Loki throws the dagger towards the target. His heart rises, his breath holds in his throat, his eyes widen in anticipation. The dagger sticks into the top most section of the target, teetering on the tip before it falls from the target entirely. 

Loki's face collapses into exasperation as he clenches his fits at his side and bites his lip from shouting the profanity he wishes to emanate. Without a word Sif takes a step towards the target, to retrieve the dagger, but she stops short as the blade suddenly becomes air-born. The tip stays pointed at the target, even as it moves back towards Loki. Sif's gaze follows it the entire time until her eyes fall upon Loki's blazing look as he grabs hold of the blade once more, his grip dangerously tight and his knuckles white. 

Swiftly Sif steps towards Loki and rests a hand on his arm just as he is about to raise it again. Her look is as serious as her tone as she says, “You know to never fight in anger.”

“Thor does it all the time,” Loki responds and instantly regrets it, shaking his head against his own words the moment they are out. “Apologies, I didn't mean...”

“You did mean it and that is alright. One day his anger will get the better of him, one day it will cause a great deal of trouble. You however, must strive to be the level headed one, the one who does not fight with anger.”

Loki looks at Sif with a slight sneer in his look. “Why is it always alright for him to fall victim to his own weaknesses and not I?”

At this Sif looks away and presses her lips together tightly, a sure sign that he has hit upon a question she knows the answer to but is unwilling to speak an answer. Diversion is her tactic again as she faces the target once more, causing Loki's gaze to follower her, and she says, “Don't concern yourself with arching the blade this time, you are in close enough range where it is more important to have force. Let your elbow be the power behind your throw. Now, try again.”

If it were not for her gentle, yet commanding, tone Loki is not sure what he would have done. However, her instructions seep into him and silently he raises the dagger once again. This time he takes a deep breath in before letting it out, the blade leaving his fingers in the same instant. With his left foot planted firmly in front of his right, his whole body moving in a single motion that starts at the point of the weapon, Loki watches as the dagger cuts through the air. 

Though he holds back a hoot of triumph, Loki cannot forgo the smile that spreads across his face as the dagger plants in the target. It is not center, it is off to the far right, but it stays in its spot. With an equally wide grin Sif turns to him and exclaims, “Excellent.”

Once more Loki twists his powers to mentally grab hold of the dagger to draw it forth from the target and fly back to his waiting hand. Suddenly the weapon does not feel so strange, nor as heavy. He balances it for a moment before tossing it in the air and catching it with ease this time. With a sideways smile he turns to Sif and responds, “Perhaps I should listen to you more often.”

“Well, at least that idea has breached into at least one thick head around here.” Sif rests her hands on her hips. “Care to keep practicing?”

“I do not think I need your assistance any more.”

“Of course you do. Take ten paces back and you will have to throw the blade a completely different way. No, I remain until you are confident.”

“I feel very confident, Sif.”

To make his point Loki reaches his arm upward again, just as before, and lets the dagger sail towards the target. Though his arm was just as powerful in its thrust, his eyes are not as focused as they were before. Yet focus comes crashing down around him as Sif intakes a sharp breath and he looks at the bouncing blade protruding from a pillar. It is not that he failed to make the target at all, it is that Odin and a group of Einherjar decided to enter the previously empty hallway just as the dagger had left Loki's hand. 

Odin's single eye is as sharp and burns as brightly as two good ones as he stares at the dagger that continues to vibrate in the pillar just a pace away from him. Loki wants to hide, he wants to run away and hide in the first place he can find. Yet he knows that he must face the anger of his father and, though his hands shake slightly, he takes a step towards his fate. 

With pursed lips Odin reaches for the dagger and pulls it forth from the pillar with ease. He looks at it for a moment before he throws it towards the ground, narrowly missing Loki as he stops short, and bluntly says, “Learn to control yourself, Loki.” 

Odin and the Einherjar continue onward, exiting the colonnaded hallway as quickly as they had entered it. Sif remains quiet as Loki continues to look down at the weapon protruding from the ground and he begins to think that Odin speaks of more than just a small dagger. 

 


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**  
** Though Frigga smiles sweetly, Loki can tell that there is something false in her demeanor. As he pulls the dagger away from the illusory target she had created, he asks softly, “What?”

Though the target she had conjured for his demonstration, to show her what Sif had taught him the other day, disappears with a wave of her hand, her fake expression does not. Instead she kindly says, “That was marvelous, Loki, with good time you will be more than apt in such a skill.”

“You know you can only get away with saying such sentiments to Thor.” 

Frigga's face coils into an expression of not wanting to admit that her son is right. Yet her facade breaks as she lets out a small sigh and admits truth. “If I had known that you wanted to learn weapon training such as this...”

“I know, I realize it is not a sword like I should be learning, but I know how to wield a sword just fine. Yet I also realize that it is not entirely magic, which now feels like a betrayal in my heart already.”

“Darling...” Frigga tries to interjects as she takes a step towards Loki. 

Though he is prone to silence himself around his brother and his friends, he finds no such thing when talking with his mother. Therefore he continues, though only slightly, “I believe I want to know it all. I know such a task is great, but why know just a single thing when you can learn many? Just as you have always said.”

Frigga folds her hands together, patiently waiting for Loki to finish, and when he does her response is simple. “If I had known you wanted to learn how to wield small weapons and magic together, I would have offered to show you myself.”

Loki's face shifts from bafflement to wonderment. “Really?”

“Do you honestly think I need your father to defend me?” Her smile is rueful and it causes Loki to grin as well as he sheaths the dagger at his belt.

“With words no, of course not. But with weapons, well, I have never thought about it.”

“I have entered many battles, Loki, and I have come out of each one alive.”

Eyes narrow in amusement as Loki inquires, “And you used magic on the battlefield alongside weapons?”

“You are not the first to think of such a union, or was I.”

Loki pauses for a moment, looking out towards the wide expanse of Asgard just beyond the reaches of the balcony, before he turns back to say, “Invisibility has proven to be a slight weapon when confronting an enemy, moving objects has been more so, but I wonder...”

“Illusionary altercations suit better in battle.”

A brightness comes to Loki's face as eagerness sweeps through him. “Am I ready to be taught these abilities?”

“No, but I think you will like the challenge none the less,” Frigga responds, her tone warm and holding barely a sign of defeat. “Hand me your dagger.”

Instantly obeying her orders, Loki draws forth his dagger once again and hands it to his mother. She caresses it in her hand, touching it fondly as if the cold metal were warm, before she wanders towards the benches that line the balcony. Idly Loki follows behind her, watching as she takes a seat even though he remains standing, allowing his hands to feel the intricately designed contours of a pillar before stepping further outward. He tilts his head to feel the sun upon his face, basking in its warm glow. With a deep sigh of content his eyes fall from the sky above, down towards the edge of Asgard where the Bifrost observatory resides, across the city, and back towards the solid balustrade that he now leans against.

“Wise men should follow the paths beaten by great men,” Frigga begins, her voice as soothing as her touch on the dagger. Loki turns back towards her and slides to sit on the bench opposite her. Though he does not entirely agree with her point, he remains silent none the less, intrigue driving him to seal his lips. “Imitation is a greater achievement than superiority. The reason for this is that if a man's ability does not equal those before him, at least it will savor of it, and if he does then he is equal to greatness. Tell me, Loki, what happens when you pull a bow back too far, to the point of loosing strength?”

“You lose control of the bow and the arrow can go astray. Or the bow might break entirely, depending on the strength of the man.”

“Exactly, to do too much, to test your limits too far, can end in destruction. That is why we are going to take this slowly, so that we can hit the mark we wish to reach without breaking the bow.”

Frigga falls silent as she firmly holds the dagger in one hand and runs her other hand over it. Gradually a greenish gold shimmer emanates from it and the dagger morphs into a flower. Loki offers her a smile at her attempt to turn a weapon into a peaceful object and he comments, “You always turn the most horrible things into creations of beauty.”

“I'm a mother, such is my duty,” Frigga responds with a light laugh as she hands the flower to Loki. “Yet I would be an even worse mother if I shielded you from the art of war. For, as you know, such an art is learned both in action and in study. So concentrate on this study, imagine the dagger once again, and put your energy into making it so.”

Loki looks down at the flower in his hands. A rose, deep red, and a stem that is now held between thumb and forefinger. He fidgets slightly, his concentration not entirely with him as he looks at the innocence of the rose. There should be thorns, he reminds himself, there should be a pinprick of reality in this beauty. A golden haze falls over the stem and thorns begin to sprout.

A slight smirk spreads across Loki's face as he looks down at what he has created. With a shrug he presents it to Frigga and says lightly, “It is not imitation, but it is also not greater than what was before.”

“Then it is a good start.”

The remainder of the afternoon carries on much the same way, with the changing of objects and the manipulation of energy and matter. Moving things and making things disappear was one thing, however Loki is now finding that altering is a much harder power to grasp. As the room grows dim Loki lets out a huff of frustration as he once again turns to the rose in his hand. It still has its thorns, those of his creation, and briefly they scrape against his skin to remind him just how real they are. Yet it is not a rose but a dagger he wants in the palm of his hand.

“Take a deep breath in, Loki,” Frigga says soothingly, even if she is growing concerned for her son and his tendency to over exert himself. “Clear your mind so that you think only of the task at hand.”

Loki does as she bids, a breath of air filling his lungs before he slowly lets it out and his eyes fall upon the rose with complete concentration. Yet the rose remains as it is, not as it was, and though Loki tries his best, his face still furrows in aggravation. He wants it to be the dagger again, knows that he is capable of manipulating some element of the object in front of him, yet his frustration grows as he continues to lack the ability to change it entirely.

A breath, a moment to clear his mind, concentration, all of it is not working and Loki clenches his hand around the rose, ready to toss it aside. However, before he can complete such an action, Frigga gently says, “It is also necessary for a man, wishing to hold his own, to know how to do wrong.”

“For what purpose? For future failure?”

“For future learning, to make use of it later, and for humility.”

Though her words are meant to give him comfort, Loki only looks sadly down at the flower in his hand. He is not ready to give up so easily though. Therefore he grits his teeth and says harshly, “I can do it, Mother.”

As Loki stares intently at the flower, he barely feels his mother's hand upon his arm until there is a firm squeeze. Reluctantly he looks up at her as she leans towards him at the edge of her bench, not wanting to admit defeat, and she seems to sense this. For that reason she comments, “Worth is not measured in how quickly one gets there, for it is immeasurable when one obtains it.”

The flower becomes slack in Loki's hand as his mother's words seep into him. She is right, as she so often is, and he finds himself nodding in agreement. Though he still feels a hint of defeat in this day, he still retains the possibility of hope. “Perhaps tomorrow then?”

“There is a reason why magic is called a practice and an art, Loki.” Frigga rises from her bench, taking the flower from his hand as she steps back into the room. “It means that it is something that will never be perfect, something that will always be changing, something that will always be learned or relearned. I sometimes wonder if your ambitions cloud your ability to see this.”

Loki wants nothing more than to bark back a retort, yet he knows that doing such a thing will only serve to prove him ill. Arguing with his father earns him a hearty growl and a menacing look that indicates he should use his words no further. Arguing with his mother, however, earns him a quick whip response that usually leaves him with a slack jaw and wondering how she was able to prove him wrong with just a few simple words. He envies his mother for her silver tongue, and therefore knows full well not to provoke it.

With this in mind Loki merely shrugs and responds minutely, “My ambitions and desires can change as quickly as you can change that rose into a dagger, Mother.”

Frigga laughs lightly, looking down at the rose in her hand, yet she does not change it back. Instead she places it on the large circular table in the center of the room, a message that it will be there for Loki tomorrow. While she knows her son struggles with patience, she does not. Therefore she knows that even if the rose is placed here once again tomorrow it will not wilt on its way to becoming a weapon. Turning around to face Loki again she smiles warmly and her gaze shines in the light of the sun slipping towards the horizon.

Shaking her head, as if remembering herself, Frigga says, “We'll stop early for today, go out for a time before dinner.”

“Out?” Loki questions with more intrigue than disbelief.

“I am not one to give you orders, Loki, you may do as you please.” A knowing and sideways smile comes to her face as she nods for her son to go forward. “Just be back by dinner.”

Loki does not need any more persuasion that what he has been given and quickly he is out the door. Freedom. Pity induced freedom after a day of little achievement, but it is freedom none the less and Loki's mind races with how he will take advantage of it. Into the city, that answer comes to him instantly and he begins to stride down long staircases to reach his intended destination. Both his parents tell him and Thor to go out into the city when they can, yet both give different explanations as to why. Their father states that they should walk in the city as princes, as figureheads, and as models that people flock too. Their mother, on the other hand, argues that they should walk in the city as citizens, as equals, and as humble servants to those that they should see for the sake of want, not need. Such conflicting thoughts of rule have always baffled Loki, wondering how the two can possibly rule together when they have such different views on how to rule. A balance in difference is what Loki always likes to tell himself. Yet he wonders some days just which ideal of rule he is meant to uphold.

For today the city, and all the wonders it has to offer, is but a vestibule for the great wide wonder he really wishes to explore in the precious hours he has been given. Citizens seem to envy royalty, yet Loki finds himself envying the citizens more often than he would ever like admit, at least out-loud. They have freedom; they have a life unscheduled and though filled with expectations, they are not as great as the ones that Loki feels every day. At least that is what he feels and observes as he breaks from the confines of the palace and steps out into the open streets.

The noise strikes him first, coming like a rushing wave across his skin. It is not cold or jarring, rather the opposite, it is quite welcoming and warm. So too are the people as they move around him, a pleasant comfort that is rarely felt in the walls of the palace. Without a doubt Loki knows he has the affections of his mother, yet with all of her warmth there is still a coldness that lurks in the gilded halls. It is a seriousness, a brooding reflection of his father that emanates from the tallest statues down to the narrowest corridors. Away from those watching walls though, Loki feels more at ease.

With a light step and a smile upon his face he winds his way towards the docks. There are a few people who greet him, even more who simply let him be on his way. On these streets he is still their prince, but he is also the prince his mother urges him to be, a prince of the people. Loki knows that when Thor walks these streets he is met with cheers that lead him to taverns and long nights of entertainment. While such good humor is welcome on some occasions, Loki likes to think that he shows a more reserved side, one that shows stability, as he goes out to observe in solitude.

There are days though, days like today, when Loki begins to wonder if he has caused such reserved stillness in his manners because of his own self or if he was conditioned after observing Thor's actions. In his heart though he wonders if worst of all that the choice was never his, that he was doomed to be the way he is because of his parent's desires alone. Loki's fists clench at his sides, even as a smile remains on his face while he begins to leave behind crowded streets. The obvious juxtaposition between him and Thor always leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Yet the truth is apparent at every weapons demonstration, every banquet, and every family gathering. Thor is Odin's favorite. And while Loki will always feel the warmth that is knowing he is Frigga's favorite, he also wonders why such a division has to be so.

The gentle hum of the docks tickles at Loki's ears, for it is a different tune than the one heard in the city streets. It is more rhythmic here, voices accompanies by the sound of waves splashing and fish slapping against decks. Loki only has to nod at one of the dock hands, the man already on familiar terms with Loki, before he jumps into a small skiff. For a moment his mind is no longer weighed down by previous unpleasant thoughts, for his mind is preoccupied by action. For a moment, just a moment, Loki lets elation fill him as he casts off and his hands gently caress the rudder. Slowly the skiff lifts upward with his light touch.

Though the balcony in his mother's room, one that he looks out nearly every single day, offers the freshest of air, nothing compares to the wind that grabs hold of Loki's hair now as he urges the skiff ever skyward. Even in the solitude of his own room, with its own grand view high above, does not offer the thrill that pinpricks along Loki's skin as he keeps the skiff hovered for a moment before leaning forward. The skiff zips through the air, leaving only an echo of a joyful cry that is ripped from his lips before being dismantled by the wind.

Loki remembers stories, back when he and Thor were still small, that his mother would tell of pirates, vagabonds, and mercenaries. Up here in the clouds he feels like them, feels the freedom that they must feel despite their villainous ways. There is no prince attached to his name up here, there is no responsibility and no obligations. There is just Loki and for a moment he lets his free hand stretch out beside him and feels the wind tickle his fingers.

The expanse of the city falls behind him as he skirts along the waterfall edge of Asgard. He dips the skiff down just briefly, to have the water spray up around the small vessel, before he brings it back up into the sky. Turning to the far right he swoops towards the mountains that embrace the city. Distantly he looks back towards the palace and sighs in derision. Even his home is a resounding expanse of forced masculinity and abrasive expense. Old thoughts begin to enter his head again as he slows the skiff while he continues to move closer to the mountains. He smirks slightly as he thinks how the palace is so much like his father. Sturdy, muscular, dominant, and yet still covered in a golden sheen that cannot hide a darkness that is truly underneath.

Loki does not resent Thor, he could never resent him for what he has not yet comprehended. Yet, Loki wonders, if even he fully comprehends his predicament. Is there really a separation in our family, one divided by those that show their abilities through strength and those through thought? He thinks on this wearily, wondering truly if there has to be such a division. Or, he muses, is this just the way things are supposed to be? Resentment now lurks in his heart, though it is not towards Thor, it is towards himself. He resents that he has put himself into this position, allowed his parents to manipulate both him and Thor into accepting this separation of character. Yet, he wonders further, what would happen if we were the same, if we were equal in merit in both of our parent's eyes?

Slowly Loki shakes his head, dispelling all thoughts as he always forgets that they infiltrate his mind readily when he is allotted a minute alone such as this. He lets out a light chuckle. _To think, I being like Thor_. Yet such a thought makes Loki's heart feel a little lighter. He would have the admiration of his father then, yet he would also lose all the strength he knows he possesses as himself. _If only he could see_. However, Odin, even in all of his wisdom, cannot see the strength that Loki has in cunning silence as opposed to bold vociferousness. At least this is what Loki believes, he does not know the true nature concerning Odin's grunts towards his efforts and praise towards Thor's. Perhaps such things are simply incomprehensible. Or perhaps there is a purpose to everything, one that he does not yet see. 

Something catches his eye. It should not, but it does none the less and Loki slows the skiff down entirely so he can get a better look. He had not realized how far out he has sailed until now as he looks around further and finds that he is deep into the mountains, with only the peak of the palace visible. Instinctively, though perhaps doltishly, Loki looks around to see if anyone else is about. He is alone, completely and utterly, and the feeling sits unwell in his soul. Alone is one thing, entirely alone is quite another. And while Loki is unnerved in his solitude it still does not deter the fact that he wishes to investigate his find further. 

There is a gap, a long narrow crack, in the side of the mountain that his skiff hovers beside. With a steady hand Loki urges the vessel to edge closer to the opening so that he might peer inside. What greets him is a dim darkness and for a moment Loki merely shrugs, thinking that it must be a home for some sort of creature. As he turns away from it, steadying his hand on the rudder once again, something flashes in the corner of his eye. He whips his head back towards the gap, but sees only darkness once again. 

Pursing his lips together, Loki turns the skiff to face the gap. He estimates that the skiff is a great deal smaller than the gap, yet that is only in its exterior. Loki has no idea what lies in the darkness, but he wants to find out. As he moves the skiff inward Loki kindles a fire in his fingers, making it burn just a little brighter the further he goes. Without a doubt it is a cave, the expanse going into the far reaches of the mountain, but it is not a home for any creature. Curiosity drives Loki further, even as the walls begin to tighten around him. Yet the skiff continues onward, despite the tightness Loki begins to feel, and it is with triumph that he sees the flicker that had caught the corner of his eye once again. 

The walls begin to shimmer, a dull haze of red, orange, and yellow. Then they turn a fierce dark, towards green and blue. And then Loki jolts forward as his skiff comes to a sudden halt, crashing into an invisible obstruction. Gaining his balance once again, Loki urges the fire in his hands to burn all the brighter so that he might see what he has crashed into. Yet there is nothing, there is just the promise of a more darkened cave. The skiff will go no further though and Loki tilts his head in confusion. Removing his hands from the rudder entirely, he moves towards the edge of the skiff and reaches a hand out towards the walls of the cave. 

Energy prickles his hand, tracing down through his fingertips to his wrist and then up his arm. There is magic here, yet it cloaks itself. Gently Loki hums to himself, trying to work out exactly what he has discovered as he continues to touch the walls and then the invisible expanse that has stopped his skiff. He tries to think of all he has read, of anything that might offer him an explanation for what he his encountering. Yet nothing comes to mind, no stories, no memories, nothing to assist him in this predicament. 

Then Loki wonders if there is a reason why no stories have been told of what is in front of him. While others would think of hidden dangers that lurk behind such a barring, Loki only thinks of the splendor that must be hidden away. The magic is strong, stronger than he is capable of manipulating, therefore there must be something of great importance beyond this veil. As Loki takes his hand away from the invisible barrier his heart sinks slightly. He knows that even if he knew what is before him, he does not have the power to change it. 

The shimmers continue to ripple past him and an idea begins to form in Loki's mind. The radiating colors that now encase him, they are much like the Bifrost in nature. A wild conclusion comes to him and he thinks that the reason why stories have not been told of this place is because someone wants it to remain a secret. If it holds any power that the Bifrost holds, to transverse between worlds, of course someone would want to maintain the monopoly by holding the Bifrost and keeping all other routes a secret. 

With a smirk Loki thinks that he will need a great deal of power to break through the veil that separates Asgard from what surely lies beyond the rippling spectrum of color around him. 

 


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**  
** “Where are you going?” Thor asks with a playful jibe in his tone as he falls into pace beside Loki. Instantly he reaches a large hand to Loki's shoulder, in order to stop is rapid advancement, when he does not pause for his brother. Yet Loki only shakes him off and carries on. 

“Nowhere,” Loki answers more curtly than he intended, knowing full that his shirking answer will only further Thor's curiosity and he regrets it deeply. 

“Knowhere is rather far away wouldn't you say?” Playfulness does not leave Thor even as Loki scowls at his answer. “Speak honestly, brother, where are you going? You have not been around as of late.”

“Do you worry for me?”

“No, I merely wish to express concern. Even Sif questioned your absence the other day.”

“Really, Sif?” Loki asks, his voice laced with disbelief even though his heart aches to know more. He takes pause for a moment, lost in thought. Though he is loath to admit it, his previous admiration has slowly become something more after she had taken the time to teach him the art of throwing a dagger. Since then Loki has decided to dedicate his time to fully learning and comprehending such a useful weapon, alongside magic of course. He has also decided that he desires to know more of Sif, beyond the realm of being a marvelous warrior and friend. Yet, he has continuously wondered, if his interest is shared. 

“As well as Fandral and I,” Thor responds with a broad, though charitable, smile and instantly Loki's hope lessens. If concern is formed in the group then Loki believes Sif merely offered her voice as well to not seem disconnected from a subject she undoubtedly cares little about. Loki had seen such from her in the past, her agreement with a shrug of indifference before she moved onto what she actually cared to do. Leaving the likes of Loki, Fandral, and Thor in the wake of dust was a common occurrence with Sif and it only spurred Loki's admiration for her all the more. 

Yet, some things are also not meant to be and with a shake of his head Loki focuses his mind on the issue at hand. Thor still looks at him with concern and quickly follows his brother as Loki begins to walk away, resuming the path previous to being distracted. Looking towards Thor beside him, Loki purses his lips in agitation before saying evenly, “You have no need to concern yourself.”

“Such a simple answer requires explanation, Loki.”

“No, it doesn't.”

“I will not play this game with you.”

Loki rounds on Thor, stopping just before the mighty double doors that will take him out of the palace. “It is not a game I play.”

“Then what is your purpose for leaving in such a rush now?” There is genuine and heartfelt concern in Thor's tone and for a moment Loki almost breaks, he almost relinquishes his secrets to his brother. His heart hardens in an instant though as he swiftly reminds himself that if he were to tell Thor what he is doing he would immediately go to their father and Loki cannot afford such a blunder. 

Therefore Loki smirks and quips, “To get away from you.”

Before Thor can respond Loki merely savors his open mouthed look of hurt before darting away. Swiftly he moves into the crowd that constantly lingers outside the palace doors, blending into the sea, and only looks back for a moment. Behind him he can see Thor at the portico, looking for him even as he has cloaked himself in the crowd, before he grunts and turns back. With a smirk Loki continues onward, leaving behind the brief encounter. 

Yet, he wonders as he moves towards the docks for the third time in two weeks, if Thor will not simply shrug off such a thing as he is usually prone to do. Sif's eyes are always watching, Fandral notices when things are askew, therefore they would have inevitably inquired towards Loki's wanderings, but it is Thor who is approaching. At the heart of it Loki knows that he must simply find a better plan as to how to combat his brother's concerned curiosity. 

Loki knows he has become sloppy, ill prepared, and less calculating as his ambitions take hold of him and he casts off his skiff once again with a forceful jerk. As it soars into the air his face sets towards determination though, to find a solution to his problem, as his hands already know how to guide him towards his destination. Each time his mother allows him to leave their lessons early, ones that he is grasping more and more with each day as his determination drives him to take hold of the magic being taught him in a way it has not before, Loki finds his way to the mysterious cave he found. His mother preaches of patience, yet Loki cannot help but notice that since finding the magically protected portal, his magical strength has become more powerful and his concentration on learning has been steady. 

There is purpose, there is something to work towards, and Loki knows that such a thing is the difference. Learning magic has always been a desire, that is without a doubt, but now it holds more meaning. It holds a purpose to an end. Learning is a virtue Loki has always upheld to the highest standard in his heart, yet to put it to a use makes his eagerness to learn thrive all the more. The fact that what he wishes to use his magic on has been secreted away in his heart makes it all the more intriguing. 

Yet Thor wants to break into his silence, wants to be a part of something that Loki is not willing to share just yet. He must be more careful in the future, he also must advance his knowledge all the quicker, despite his mother's call for patience. The day after finding the cave Loki was able to turn the rose back into a dagger with little trouble. What took him all day previously, only took him a few concentrated minutes the next and it encouraged Loki. In the two weeks that have followed, manipulating a dagger has turned into manipulating a person. It is a skill Loki is slowly learning, but he knows if he learned a little faster it would help to circumvent his brother and their inquiring friends better. 

Knowing full well that it will still take him a few more days to change more than his attire when manipulating his appearance, Loki searches his mind for another temporary solution concerning Thor as his skiff begins to enter the mountains. The searing solution in his mind is to crack the mystery of the cave today, yet Loki also knows that such a thing is not a guarantee, as much as he would like it to be. The last two times he came to inspect the Bifrost elements of the hidden veil between worlds he was only able to breach the separation for a small and brief moment. He could barely get a hand through the hole he had created, let alone his entire person, and he is doubtful that he will get much further today. 

Loki's breast swells though at the thought of indeed doing more than he was previously able today. He shakes his head at his own thoughts, knowing that realistic standards must still be upheld, even when enthusiasm drives. He begins to slow the skiff down as he reaches the cave tucked away in the looming mountains and with a gentle hand he turns the rudder to guide him into the darkness. With a flash of his hands he illuminates the cavern around him and his eyes shine at the Bifrost rainbow around him. 

Shooting up two orbs of light to float above him, Loki then rubs his hands together in preparation before focusing his energy on the veil in front of him. The invisible barrier shines a little before it turns back to its muted hues. Shaking his hands at his side for a moment, limbering up much like he would before a military training bout, Loki then focuses once again. Slowly an opaque hole begins to form and though Loki would like to grow excited at the achievement, he keeps his focus instead. It begins to grow larger and larger, expanding further than he was previously capable of, and then suddenly it seals itself. 

Loki does not let out a growl of frustration, instead he throws a rapid fire of energy at the veil even though he knows such a thing will not advance his cause. It does lessen his disappointment though and with a deep breath Loki sets his jaw towards purpose before raising his ready hands once more. He does not concentrate his energy though, he does not call forth his magic, instead a thought so great takes hold of him that he remains immobile for a moment. 

The Tesseract. 

Loki swallows hard for his idea is one of either brilliance or utter stupidity. He knows that the Tesseract can manipulate space, it can easily create a hole just like the one he is trying to devise with his bare hands. If he had the Tesseract he would be able to break this veil that keeps him from seeing the wide expanse that lies beyond. He could do a lot more than just that if he had the Tesseract in his possession and Loki knows it. 

Taking a step away from the shimmering wall in front of him, Loki runs a hand through his black hair as he contemplates exactly what he is considering.  _I'm mad, crazy, illogical_ . Though the harsh descriptions for such an idea are in abundance in his head, there is still one thought that strikes above these.  _It could work_ . Elation ripples through Loki as he begins to think that not only could he open the veil, but he could also prove his worth by being crafty enough to think of such a strategy. 

Instantly reality comes crashing down around Loki. While he sees brilliance and tactic in his plan, he knows that his father will not. With pursed lips Loki takes a seat in the skiff, letting it hover just has it has been, while he thinks. There is a reason why the Tesseract is in Odin's vault, there is a reason why all the weapons housed there are sealed away. It is a weapon, plain and simple, and Loki knows this deep in his heart. Yet his desire to prove himself, to be something more than what he has been dejected to be, burns in his heart as well. 

“Thor does countless stupid things and still receives praise,” Loki says in a hushed manner to himself, his voice echoing slightly along the cavern walls. “By the Norns, I do the right thing and I receive a reprimand. Perhaps I just have not been bold enough, daring enough like Thor is. That is what Odin praises, his daring and his commitment to stick to his stupidity with blunt stubbornness. Such a virtue will get him killed one of these days, and then what will be left?”

Loki swallows hard again, knowing exactly what would happen if Thor is no longer around to take the throne. Though such a thought is daunting, it still sends a small shiver of joy through Loki. To rule Asgard and protect the Nine Realms with precision and intelligence instead of force and magnitude is a thought that causes a small smile to spread on Loki's face. Yet he quickly shakes it away, knowing full well that such an idea is absurd and too far fetched to fully contemplate. His eyes dart towards the veil in front of him, knowing that this is the issue at hand. He knows the Tesseract is the answer, he knows it will be a tool to help him bridge the gap between various worlds that have been sealed off by Odin and Heimdall for centuries. 

“The people deserve the privilege to cross between realms if they so choose,” Loki thinks out-loud once again. The thought is striking and for a moment Loki thinks on the lessons of leadership his mother has taught him. That a king should be trusting of his noble advisers but only to a point. Above anything a king should trust his people, it is them who he should work for and no one else. In Loki's mind he sees that Odin works for the those of higher rank and privilege, while Thor works only for himself. He mutters again to himself, “There is no one for the people, for the common or even destitute. Unless...”

His words trail off, but his mind answers with a clear answer.  _Unless I do it_ . The Tesseract is under lock and seal to anyone else but him and in this moment Loki believes that taking it will be the bold move his father always wants to see in him. It will also be a statement that he means to show a better head towards ruling Asgard than Thor ever has. Loki's voice echos across the walls again as his eyes grow wide and he questions himself, asking, “When did I start thinking about ruling?”

Silence is his answer and he shakes his head as he chuckles lightly. It is not a matter of who should rule, Loki thinks to himself this time, it is a matter of making a point. Without a doubt a firmness begins to grow in Loki as he contemplates that it is a bold action that is needed to convince his father and brother that their idea of ruling is not always the best. A merging though, a convergence of ruling thought, is what Loki now believes is needed. 

The bold action must be the taking of the Tesseract and using it to allow Asgardians to go to realms previously blocked by those who think they are doing good. No good can come from sealing someone in, Loki thinks with a sad grimace, no good can come from keeping the truth from someone. With a new and firm resolution Loki stands up again. He takes one last fleeting look at the veil that will soon be open to him before he turns to take the rudder once more and leave the cave that will soon be his biggest triumph. 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

  
Darkness had encased Loki the last time he had made his way to Odin's vault. This time, however, he let the light of day guide him. There is no fear in his heart, no qualms towards the task at hand, just a firm determination that shows on his angular features. There is a bounce in his step as he goes further and further down into the depths of the palace, moving past the guarding Einherjar with a smile. He smiles not for their sake, but instead smiles with the thought that many dastardly creatures have attempted to get into the very vault he is now approaching only to meet their end and he passes through with only a smile. 

The large door closes behind him and with ease Loki moves immediately to the left. His face glows a dim blue in the light of the Tesseract as he takes a step closer to it. The smile he once held slowly falls from his face though as he looks at the square cube that is the answer to all of his problems.  _Should it not be by my own hand?_ Loki finds himself questioning as he sadly tilts his head, as if hoping the Tesseract will have the answer for him. Yet Loki knows that his powers, though extensive, are still not capable of doing what he wants to do, what he needs to do. 

Patience. His mother's voice enters his head and with a jolt of nerves Loki looks behind him, expecting to see her. There is no one else in the vault though. There is his mind though and Loki silently snarls as he thinks that his mind is more of a detriment to him than anything else sometimes. Yet detriments can also be assets and he firms himself again, knowing that what he has thought through is the best option. It is going to show his father that he is capable of standing up for himself, that he is worthy enough to be a prince of Asgard. It is going to show Thor that his bullheaded ways of thinking are not the only path, that there are other paths to achieving the same aim. And it is going to prove to the people of Asgard that they have been blinded in their comfort, that there is more out there and yet it is being hidden from them. 

Loki's heart beats a little faster and his breath catches slightly in his throat as he reaches out for the Tesseract. A single finger presses against it, and then another, until an entire hand is wrapped around one edge. The energy that emanates from it is powerful, sending a series of small tingles to a wave of shock through Loki's hand, up his arm, and into his body. Swiftly he places his other hand on the cube and for a moment he merely soaks in the mass amount of pure energy that reverberates inside of him. His mouth gapes open slightly and his breath becomes heavy as he lifts the Tesseract from its resting spot. 

In an instant Loki cannot breathe; the only thing he is capable of moving are his eyes as they become large with wonder and fright. The whole expanse of the universe flashes before his eyes. The beauty of a dying star, the destruction in a galaxy being born, and the wonder of darkness. He sees realms he knows of and others he has never seen before. The whole of it is open to him, waiting for him to arrive. With a shutter Loki wakes as if from a trance, blinking away distant stars from his eyes. 

Its power is more than he ever thought it would be and a smile curls upon his lips as he thinks how grateful he is for that. Without a doubt Loki now knows that the power of the Tesseract will obliterate the veil that divides realms in the cave. It will obliterate all divisions between a great many things, he thinks as he turns to leave the vault.

“Loki, what are you doing?” Thor questions as he stands stock still just a few steps from Loki's intended exit. 

With a bemused look in his expression, Loki looks up from the Tesseract in his hands towards his brother. He smirks slightly and responds evenly, “I am doing something that should have been done a long time ago, brother.”

“I do not know what it is you intend, but I know that no good will come from taking anything out of this vault.”

“Mjolnir resides in this vault and yet I know you have every desire to one day take it as your own weapon.” Though Thor's features remain rigid, Loki knows he has confronted his brother with truth. “This is no different.”

“This is different, Loki,” Thor responds magnanimously. “You do not know how to wield the Tesseract.”

“And you do not know how to wield Mjolnir, yet that does not stop your ambitions. Look, I wield the Tesseract now without hindrance. I am worthy enough to use this and I have a great purpose for it.”

Thor's face contorts towards confusion. “Worthy? There is no worth that is attached to the Tesseract, only destruction. Put it down before someone gets hurt.”

Loki looks down at the Tesseract in his hands and firmly responds, “No.”

“I do not want a quarrel with you, Loki, but if I must I will try and stop you.”

“Why? Why do you feel compelled to stop me?”

“Because it is the right thing to do,” Thor responds without hesitation. “It is what father would do if he were here.”

Loki's head snaps up with a snarl. “Exactly, that is exactly my point, Thor. Why are we expected to always do things the way he would do them, the way he wants us to do them? Do you ever tire of it, do you ever feel like his way is not the right way?”

This time it is Thor who is firm in his resolution. “No.”

Hatred leans towards heartbroken misunderstanding as Loki asks, his voice hollow, “Why not?”

Thor does not have a chance to respond as a burst of energy emanates from the Tesseract. It shoots towards Thor and he narrowly dodges it before it punctures a hole into the wall behind him. Though Thor cries out his brother's name in a mighty bellow, Loki only mutely hears it as he is already bounding out of the vault with the Tesseract in his hands. They shake slightly though, fingers trembling as he tries to tighten his grip on the cube. Despite this he knows what must still be done and he swiftly bounds up empty staircases that will lead him out of the palace. All he has to do is get to the docks.

“Loki stop!” the bellow comes not from Thor this time, but from Odin. While he was capable of moving past his brother, his blood runs cold and his limbs become immobile at the sound of his father's voice. Instantly Loki hates that he has paused, that he is obeying his father's order even as he holds the tool to diminish his power against him. 

Slowly Loki turns around and faces his father. Odin stands alone, with Gungnir gripped tightly in his right hand, and not an Einherjar in sight. There is no scowl on his face, merely his normal neutrality that perhaps hurts more than if he showed emotions. Before Odin can command him any further though, Loki quickly begins to speak. His words are rushed, but his tone steady as he says, “I need to do something, Father. I need to show you something wonderful, something that will make you proud.”

Loki's gaze glances behind Odin for a moment as he sees Thor running to join them in the long hallway. He stops beside their father, taking a stance against Loki as well and for that Loki scowls slightly.  _They will soon see_ . Loki is about to state that the whole of Asgard will soon see what he has to offer when Odin shakes his head solemnly and says, “Return the Tesseract to me.”

“No.” Loki holds the Tesseract ever tighter in his hands, shaking his head slightly as if the movement will reaffirm his stance despite his faltering voice. “No, I need it.”

A strange twinge, a reverberating prickle, runs across Loki's skin as he continues to hold the Tesseract and his fingers continue to tremble. He firms up his grip, determination overwhelming any trepidation he has, and once again Loki can feel the vast amount of power surging through the cube and his being. Slowly he takes a step back and away from Odin and Thor. 

Despite this movement Odin remains still and his voice even as he says, “Return the Tesseract to me and no further damage will come from whatever scheme you have devised.”

“It is no scheme.”

“I have given you a chance, Loki, now you will know my judgment.”

Loki feels like his very skin is being flayed from his muscles as the Tesseract flies from his hand, soars through the air, and disappears down the hallway. He can feel it as it barrels through the vault doors and finds stillness in its previous location. The stars, the blackness, the wonders of the universe still tingle within Loki, but they feel distant now. Though he would like to cry out in pain, he does not give his father the satisfaction and instead bites his lip against the desire. 

Distantly Loki hears the small clink of Gungnir meeting the ground again as Odin retracts the staff to his side once again, its task of taking the Tesseract away from Loki complete. Loki takes in a long ragged breath, feeling as if his chest is going to cave in with his exhale. Slowly he shakes his head, wondering where he went wrong, yet all he can mutter is a single question. “Why?”

“Such powers are beyond you, Loki,” Odin responds, noncommittal disdain edging his voice. 

Loki wants to say more, he wants to bellow like Thor does at his father, yet his rage remains an eternal flame in his heart instead. With his head still held up high, Loki turns away from Odin and strides away. He does not expect to hear anything else from his father and his assumptions are correct. All he hears is the sound of Thor's footfall behind him and his feigned cry for his brother to stop for him. He carries on though, he does not look back, and he quickens his stride to dismiss Thor. 

Loki does not know where he is going to go, all he knows is that he cannot stand the sight of Odin and Thor any longer. They are the ones dismissive of dreams, the ones who obliterate reason, and the destroyers of freedom. As he strides towards his room Loki begins to think he will gather a few things and leave this palace for a time, be away from their narrow minds. As he turns the corner though he sees two Einherjar already standing guard outside his door. A pang of defeat irks within Loki as he realizes that Odin is indeed the destroyer of freedom and with a sigh Loki enters his prison. 

 


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**  
** Beyond the double doors of Loki's bedroom there are those who believe the young prince committed a petty crime and is being punished in a way that will harden his morals and virtues. With a shrug of their shoulders most continue on, forgetting that the prince is not present during the day. Life goes on, training continues, and no one speaks a word of the locked away prince. 

In the dimly lit room though Loki knows otherwise. Punishment from Odin is achieved with a sharp reprimand followed by isolation and Loki faces this second aspect with a slight scowl on his face. He runs his hands through his hair as he sits with his back against the wall, his bed shadowing the last remaining light that filters in from the wide balcony. The isolation is the worst part, at least that is what Loki believes. With Odin yelling in front of him, reprimanding him in the worst growling sort of way, Loki can still at least gauge what he should say or how he should react based on his father's looks, words, and expressions. With not a face to read off nor a word to turn a phrase, Loki's jaw begins to clench in agitation.

He begins to wonder how long they will keep him in here, how long his punishment will last. Silence was once a comfort, a companion even, but now it is just a thing of suffocation that mocks him. He smirks slightly at himself, wondering if he would rather have his father yelling at him again instead of facing this torment. Without a doubt the air was not blanketed in silence the morning after Loki had attempted to take the Tesseract from the vault. His ears rang for hours after Odin had bellowed at him concerning the dangers he could have created and the anger he felt for allowing Loki to get as far as he did.

Loki's fingers dig into his palms as he thinks on how his father spoke of his behavior, how it was not the kind kings or princes partake in. Even now, even days after Odin's words left his mouth, Loki still thinks on what he would have liked to say to his father in that moment. If only he could have stated that the ideals of kings and princes changes with time and with people, not only rulers but in the common folk too. He wanted to explain that such a thought was the foundation as to why he took the Tesseract, why he wanted to open the veil between worlds for the people. The Tesseract was going to prove to Odin that tradition is better when changed than when left to remain collecting dust. Yet he was not able to say such things that day and in his isolation he assuredly is not able to now.

Looking down at his hands as he interlaces his fingers lazily together and then apart, Loki finds himself shaking his head. Even if he had been able to say what he desired when he faced Odin, he knows now that he would not want to go back and say it. Odin does not deserve to know and hear the merits of his words. Therefore he should not be thinking about the past, he should be thinking about the future. With a stark determination in his gaze Loki realizes that he should be thinking about how to gain the Tesseract back.

It had not been easy to find out what had happened to the cube that was going to change the whole of Asgard for Loki, but he managed none the less. Even in the early hours of the morning after the incident he could still feel a tingling in his fingers, a small sensation that reminded him that the Tesseract was still close. Then, just like that, it was gone. He had felt hollow and abandoned in a way that made him feel like his heart was caving in slightly and his limbs sluggish. He knew in that moment that the Tesseract was not on Asgard. In his isolation he began to seek out answers for its whereabouts.

Such a thing would have been impossible for anyone else, for Loki it was merely difficult. While he has just begun to learn the art of manipulating his appearance with his mother in their lessons, projecting himself was a step even further beyond this skill. With his lessons suspended for the time being Loki knew he would not learn the ability to assist him in finding out what he needed to know. Therefore he had to make up his own means of escaping his isolation.

A small smirk coils on Loki's lips as he recalled how he attempted to combine the two elements he knew to create something his mother had not even spoken of as a possibility to learn, let alone deploy. To combine the forces of invisibility with manipulation. Yet he was not manipulating his clothing or an object this time, no he was manipulating a mind. It had not been easy, as all good things never are, but after a week of failed attempts Loki was finally able to capture the thoughts of another and make them his own.

Guilt had wracked through Loki when he had first taken hold of the random Einherjar's mind, but excitement drove him onward. He had not been able to hold the man's mind for long, he was only able to command him to move a few steps before he was rushed back to his own mind in a crashing wave that sent even his physical body jolting a step back. Yet, with the patience his mother had always insisted he have, Loki was able to hold the mind of the Einherjar longer. It was with this silent observer, this man of the mass, that Loki was able to find out exactly what had happened to the Tesseract.

Even now the remembrance makes Loki's nose wrinkle in disgust. Gone. Simple as that, the Tesseract was without a doubt no longer on Asgard, but no one knew where. Rumors were abundant on the subject, yet no rumor linked the transported Tesseract to their isolated prince. For that Loki still wonders what exactly his father's scheme is concerning not only the Tesseract, but him as well. To have such a precious item gone from the vault would of course cause concern, yet Loki wonders if Odin had a hand in creating many of the rumors himself in order to disconnect his son from the incident. Some said the Tesseract was given to a collector, or the Collector, Loki was unsure. Others said that it had been transferred to a secure location in Alfheim or Nifleheim. Only one had offered the idea that it had been placed in the hands of Midgardians before he was laughed at for such an speculation.

Yet no one said that it had been stolen, for Loki knows that Odin does not want anyone searching for it, especially himself. That is all he wants to do though, even as he stares at the empty space in front of him, Loki knows that he wants to find the Tesseract again. For a moment he wonders if he should try to enter another person's mind again, to see what he can find once again, but then he thinks better of it. He had found out all he can concerning the whereabouts of the Tesseract and he knows his father will make sure that he gains nothing more.

Loki laughs lightly to himself. He is sure his father still believes he knows not what has been said beyond the double doors of his room. Not even his mother knows of his new ability to enter the minds of others and for a moment Loki contemplates if he even wants to divulge such information to anyone.  _ No, I don't think I will _ . If Odin is going to keep secrets, then Loki believes he will too. 

As the last rays of light leave his room Loki's head snaps up. A thought so great and powerful seizes through him that he nearly bangs his head on the wall behind him. He has been going about this the wrong way, his plans that is, and just a simple change in mindset will turn everything right. Loki knows his father would rather have him think like Thor, with obedience and bravery. His mother would rather have him think mindfully, with peace in his heart and a desire to fight only when the need arises. He has been pitted into these two corners, these two possibilities. Yet, Loki wonders, what if there is a third possibility? There is the possibility to enter the minds of others, in more than just the way he was able to teach himself. To change the minds of people with seeming obedience and reservation would accomplish the desires of both his parents. To change the minds of people by turning their heads in certain directions with well placed words, well, that would be a feat fit for Loki alone.

Leaning forward Loki draws up his knees and wraps his arms around them, curling into himself as his mind races. He is talking about the manipulation of people after all, it is not a light subject. Yet he has already been able to do that, to manipulate a mind and make it as his own to escape the confines of this room. To manipulate further, to convince people to take action by making it seem like it is their own idea, to change the tides of an event without even laying a finger on it, now that is something else entirely.

“By the Norns, what am I doing?” Loki questions out loud, his voice echoing through vacant space. He clutches his legs closer to his chest and he buries his face towards his knees. Taking a deep breath in and out he contemplates just how insane his new ploy is, how horrible it can become. Then a light laugh comes to his lips. The isolation is getting to him, his father's punishment is working, and Loki begins to believe he is loosing his mind. 

Slowly he lifts his head and runs his hand through his hair. Letting out a small sigh he finds his voice again, unhindered by the solitude of speaking to oneself, as he mutters, “I cannot let them get to me and I cannot be that kind of person.”

_ Then what kind of person do I want to be?  _ This thought makes Loki's head reel for a moment. No one has ever asked him such a question before, not even himself. His face becomes long in sadness for even the most common people are allowed to think such a question without their hearts sinking to their stomachs. Yet the thought of being reprimanded for such a question has always bore heavily upon Loki. Such heaviness bears upon Loki even now and yet, in a moment, a lightness comes to his shoulders as well.

_ Why can't I think in such a way? Why am I confined to what I should be?  _ A smirk comes to Loki's face as the timeline of a thousand histories flies through his head, reminding him of all the princes who came before him who did not follow the conventions of ruling. Oddities, rebels, isolated men who had risen from the ashes of the fires set by those who claimed they were merely assisting to be more than what they were expected. 

A sudden knock at Loki's door sends a jolt through his body as he feels the reverberations on the wall behind him as well as the echoing shock in the stillness. For a moment Loki is unsure what to do, as he has not heard a knock upon his door since he was imprisoned by his father. Concern filters in first, causing a slight scowl to grace his face as he rises from his position on the floor. Anything to enter this room thus far has been attained by magic; his food, his bath, his laundry has all appeared and disappeared presumably by his mother's hand. Thinking primarily of this, Loki therefore approaches his door with caution, for a ploy might be in the works even with an innocent knock.

He presses his hand against the door, closes his eyes, and tries to visualize who stands beyond his confines. Before he can even open his eyes once more he is rolling them. Thor. Loudly he calls out, “You know I cannot come out, brother.”

The door handle instantly turns the moment Loki's words leave his mouth and to his utter shock the door swings open. He barely has a moment to dart out of the way before Thor comes barreling through. Though Loki is slack-jawed and sputtering in wonderment, Thor holds his usual sunny smile and cheery disposition. With a content sigh, Thor simply greets, “Loki!”

Before Loki can even ask what the meaning of Thor's intrusion is, his brother has his arms wrapped around him. Though his body tenses initially, as the warmth of Thor's mighty arms wrapping around his smaller form seeps into him Loki begins to relax. Unable to control his desire he raises his arms and embraces his brother as well, holding him tightly, as if he has never held him before.

The isolation hit him harder than he believed it would and for Loki the feeling of his brother close once again is a bliss he thought he would not see for some time. Yet he is blessed even as Thor pulls away, clutching his brother's shoulder in a lingering embrace before it falls entirely. Thor's smile remains though as he says, “It has been too long.”

“You speak as if I have been gone visiting a library in another realm, not...”

“Not being imprisoned,” Thor finishes as Loki trails off. There is truth in Thor's tone and looking his brother in the eyes, Loki nods his assent. 

Taking in a deep breath, Loki then hesitantly inquires, “Am I being released then?”

“I wanted you free of these confines a week ago, but I was only able to convince father to terminate your isolation today.”

“You? Why would you advocate for me?”

“Why would I not? You're my brother and, for whatever wrong you have done, the punishment has lasted long enough.”

Loki's mouth hangs open for a moment, his mind unable to formulate words towards the affections that are being showered upon him with this singular concept from Thor. Then another thought comes to him and he finds himself asking, “Have you ever wondered what kind of person you want to be?”

“No,” Thor answers with a shrug that sends Loki's heart sinking downward, only to be lifted slightly with hope as he continues, “but that is only because I already know what kind of person I want to be.”

Loki lets out a slight laugh as he looks at his brother, for he is left in disbelief with such an answer. “You're so sure of yourself.”

“And so where you when you broke into Father's vault. What I do not understand is why you did what you did.”

“Do you demand an explanation before you completely release me?”

“No, I merely wish to know what was going through your mind to drive you to such a drastic action, nothing more.”

“I was...” Loki begins before he trails off, his words choking in his throat. It is not emotion that clenches them, it is a forethought. It is one that makes him wonder if Thor, in so likeness of Odin, will not go forward to tell his parents of the plan he had devised if divulged. With a new-found emotion in his tone, one that elicits all that he desires to project, Loki starts again, “I was wrong to do what I did. It was going to be in jest, to toy with everyone.”

“The Tesseract is hardly a toy, Loki.”

“Indeed, and I know that now. I was foolish in my thinking.” Loki pauses and then adds, “It makes me wonder why you think it is wise to be in my presence.”

“What are you speaking of?”

“Why would you taint yourself by being the one to release me from my prison. Surely it is the duty of someone lesser than you, for I am not worthy...”

Thor's hand reaches out for his brother's shoulder again and clasps it heartily, stopping his words before they can be completed. Though Loki would like nothing more than to smile in smug satisfaction, he instead demurely bows his head as his brother says, “You are entirely worthy. What you were not worthy of was the punishment given you.”

“Isolation is a cruel punishment, but a just punishment.”

“Not for as long as you had to remain in it.”

Loki's brows furrow in concern, his heart knowing the false nature of such a look. “Father was not wrong, he is never wrong in his justice. You couldn't possibly think...”

Thor's hand slips from Loki's shoulder as he contemplates Loki's words for but a moment before he interjects, “Father can be wrong on occasion, I know you think I believe otherwise, but I do believe this. He is just, however there are times when he takes things too far or not enough. He shies away from war when we should fight and he punishes too hard when he should show leniency.”

Thor had grown passionate in his speech, his voice echoing loudly through previously vacant space, and Loki can only smile. It is not a smirk though, it is a genuine offer of compassion that he lends to Thor as he says, “I did not know such things were in your heart.”

“I didn't know that your trickery would take you so far as to steal something from father's vault.”

Lightly Loki shrugs his shoulders. “Like I said before, I was a fool.”

“No.” Thor shakes his head slightly, his face furrowed as he thinks upon what he wishes to say. “Father was a fool for doing this, for not preventing such a thing from happening in the first place and then punishing you for your ignorance.”

For a moment Loki's facade nearly comes down as he resentfully says, “I am not as ignorant as you think I am, just because I am younger...”

“I am ignorant too, Loki,” Thor says firmly. “It could very well have been I going into that vault and taking what I desire. I am not ashamed to admit that there have been times where I have thought about such a thing, nearly acted upon my thoughts as well.”

“Really?” The innocence Thor believes Loki possesses seeps through in his slight question. 

Thor lets out a light laugh, one that still makes Loki's nerves tingle with the breadth of it. “Indeed. Yet you were the first to act upon your desires.”

I wide smile comes to Loki as he responds lightly, “Unprecedented, wouldn't you say?”

Another laugh emanates from Thor. “A humorous change of pace.”

Loki hushes his voice slightly as he looks down at his feet once again. “I will not to do it again. I know you will convey to Father my sincere belief that I have learned my lesson.”

“I should convey to Father that mistakes can be made and punishments need not be so severe.”

“You do not need to do such a thing for me.”

Thor pauses and looks at Loki as if what he just said was the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. “I know you do not need me to defend you, but I still would argue that it is my brotherly desire to assist you.”

“I cannot have you argue with Father for my sake.”

“I can argue with Father for my own sake,” Thor says with a bright smile on his face. “Perhaps then he will see that war is sometimes good.”

Loki says not another word, merely returns a smile to his brother before he follows him out of his room. The hallway outside seems larger than it was before and for a moment Loki thinks about just how long he was confined to his room. Without a doubt, he knows that he will not allow the same thing to happen again. Without a doubt he also knows that he is moving in the right direction in turning Thor not necessarily against their father, but towards realizing that perhaps their father's way of thinking is not entirely the most sound of mind. 

“Will you come with me then?” Thor asks, drawing Loki out of his own mind. “Will you come speak to Father with me about the injustice that has befallen you?”

“I...” Loki starts and then shakes his head, as if trying to clear his head. “I think I would rather have some fresh air presently.”

“Of course, go, enjoy your freedom.”

There is hesitation, a choke of emotion, in Loki's voice as he responds, “My thanks to you, Thor. I just hope that you do not meet the same fate as I if you do indeed try to argue with Father.”

Thor flashes Loki a roguish grin. “I am not as incapable of words as you might think.”

“Oh, I do not doubt their abundance when needed.”

Thor laughs once again, taking Loki's harsh words as a jovial jab, just as Loki intended. Parting on such kindly terms, Thor strides down the hallway, leaving Loki to do as he pleases. Though he said he is in need of some fresh air, the moment Thor's back is turned Loki cloaks himself, making is appearance invisible to all, as he turns towards the library instead. 

Though his heart would like nothing more than to embrace his mother once again and to see his friends with a smile on his face, Loki reminds himself that they were not there to greet him after his release. Therefore he sets to purpose, going to the one location that will offer him answers of a more practical sort. Faked endearments can come at another time, he tells himself, as he makes his way through the palace towards the confines he would have rather found imprisonment in. Alas, even his father knows the benefits of a library and therefore Loki was not confined with comforting bookshelves and timeless tales. 

As he enters the library though Loki feels a sense of relief and warmth that has not entered his body for a long time. For a moment he stays still, knowing that no one will see him anyway, so long as he keeps the cloak around him, and allows the tranquility to wash over him. The shifting bodies around him, the murmur of hushed voices, and the rustle of pages being turned is a far sweeter music than he ever thought he would hear again. Even the smell of ink-stained skin tickles his nose in a way no flower can. 

His eyes snap open though as he remembers what he has come here for and swiftly, though with his senses still tingling with elation, Loki turns towards the far reaches of the library. He runs his hands along a familiar shelf, caressing it in a way that he is sure he would a lover, as his eyes take in the materials before him. In his confines he was able to tap into a new skill, he was able to enter a man's mind and know what his world was like while controlling his words and movements. As nimble fingers dance across book spines that open the way towards all the known magic in the Nine Realms, Loki hopes that he can find an explanation for the power he was able to stumble upon. 

What is more, Loki desires to enhance this power of his, to make it greater and stronger than what he was capable of doing alone in his room. While it is clear that his words, with practice of course, are capable of turning a man towards what he desires, as Thor is a clear example already, Loki knows now that words might not always be enough. He failed with his words when confronted with Odin. He had the Tesseract in his hands and yet he chose to use words that he did not use wisely. If he, like with daggers and magic, can combine words and magic, then Loki knows he will be better prepared in the future. For what, he is not yet sure. All he knows is that his parents are only half training him, only partially tapping into the full extent of his capabilities, and Loki wants to rectify this travesty. 

His hands wrap around a rather large text, a book with a dark spine and a rubbed away gilded title. Drawing it forth he begins to page through his find, coming across nothing yet, but knowing that this is just the first of many. Perhaps, he thinks as he picks up another book, there is the possibility of enhancing what is already known. Cloaking is fine, but anyone practiced in the art of magic can see him. With a smirk he thinks that he would like to see if he can cloak himself even from Heimdall's ever watchful gaze. 

 


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**  
** A storm darkens the skies overhead, turning lustrous oranges into deep crimsons. The bare destitution that is the earth begins to reflect the magnificent skies above, becoming awash in the beauty of the darkness. Loki looks around as he sits cross-legged in the dirt, unable to feel the hard ground beneath him as he is entranced by the heavens above him. The clouds swirl, as if the gods are blowing them with a mighty sigh, and the wind whips Loki's hair away from his face as he leans back on his hands. 

“Loki...” 

Though the voice is distant, further away than the speaker can even imagine, Loki can still hear it and chooses to ignore it. Instead he continues to look at the clouds as they begin to create a vortex, the wind kicking up dirt in the process. All is quiet here on Svartalfheim. 

And yet, Loki hears his name being called again. Once more he turns away from the call and focuses on the empty planet in front of him. There are no Dark Elves here any longer to bring life and noise to the solitude that surrounds him. With only the wind as the singular voice that resonates across this realm, Loki feels at peace. 

“Loki, where are you?” 

Raising an intrigued eyebrow, Loki finds it curious that he can now fully hear that it is Fandral calling his name back in Asgard. He knew he would not be able to remain forever in the stillness that is Svartalfheim, therefore, though not without a slight sigh, Loki pulls the projection of himself back towards his physical self. It flies across the darkening and stormy lands, his eyes had just moments ago beheld in wonder, and with a sharp intake of breath he opens his eyes to see the familiar furnishings of his room once again. 

Though he has not been able to open the veil between realms that resides in the cave more than a few hand's breadths in the years since his finding it, Loki has still been able to enter new worlds previously unseen none the less. With the continuing education of his mother, Loki has been able to master the art of creating copies of himself, cloaking himself to be invisible to the unbeknownst eye, and moving objects without lifting a finger. They are meritable skills, ones that Loki holds close and dear in his heart for even Thor has not been taught such magical abilities when he very well could, if he so desired to learn. Thank the Norns though, Loki often thinks, that he is able to share this one bond with his mother alone and entirely. They had become closer in the months, and now years, after the incident with the Tesseract as Loki threw himself entirely into her teaching, without a single form of protest. 

Little did his mother know though, that Loki was also culminating his own magical skills outside of her knowledge at the same time. One such talent comes in the way of an enhanced illusionary copy that Loki has managed to perfect. While his mother is able to make copies of herself, and others as well, in the realm of Asgard, Loki does not tell her that he is able to project copies of himself on worlds far-reaching even the confines of the Nine Realms. 

“Loki, what in the blazes?” Fandral asks with befuddlement graced upon his fair face as he enters the dark room. Instantly he strides towards the long curtains that drape in front of the wide opening of the balcony and pulls at them until they let loose the light just beyond. Though Loki flinches at the burning sun that pierces his eyes, he does not utter anything, even as Fandral looks towards him for an explanation. 

With cautious steps Fandral walks over to Loki and kneels down, for Loki still sits cross-legged in the middle of the floor in his room, just as he had on the dirt ground in Svartalfheim. Blinking a few times Loki fully comes back to himself, stabilizing his senses and his mind to once more be in Asgard alone, before he offers Fandral a questioning tilt of his head. Answering his unasked question, Fandral says, “There seems to be a form of commotion in the Hall of Asgard and I thought you might be interested.”

“What sort of commotion?” Loki asks with actual intrigue, not annoyance towards Fandral disturbing his solitude. 

“The kind that could tell if there is action in our future. The kind we have been waiting for.”

Loki cannot help but roll his eyes, even as Fandral jumps up and reaching out a hand to assist him up as well. Begrudgingly Loki takes the offering and is launched upward as he asks, “Is this but another one of your tales being spun from straw to look like gold?”

Fandral lets out a light laugh and shakes his head. “No, it's not. There is upset in the Nine Realms, that much is clear from the visitor that has arrived. Now, care to see how we can be a part of bringing peace?”

“Or war.”

“For the sake of peace, but of course.”

Loki responds in kind as he follows Fandral out of his room and down the hallway, “But of course.”

Though they walk a few paces in silence, such things do not last long with Fandral in tote, therefore he is quick to utter a thought. “What were you doing sitting on the floor like that?”

“Meditating.”

“What? I have never heard of such a thing.”

Loki's smile is soft as he responds evenly, his lie feeling like silk upon his tongue, “It is a form of silent thought, or internal contemplation, that the Midgardians have developed.”

“How basic.”

“It is more helpful than I'm sure you would give it credit for and it is very effective.”

Fandral shakes his head slightly before he asks, “For what purpose?”

“To clear the mind,” Loki responds as he clasps his hands behind his back after they descend a set of stairs, “though I'm not sure how much you would need such an art when your mind is already rather empty.”

Letting out a jovial laugh, Fandral briefly clasps a warm hand upon Loki's shoulder. He does not even retort, knowing full well that Loki is capable of continuing such banter for far longer than the time they have, therefore he lets the matter rest as they enter the Hall of Asgard. Indeed, Fandral was not wrong for a small group has already gathered around the throne that is now occupied by Odin. Loki's gaze follows his fathers towards the man kneeling before the throne and though he does not know who this man is, he would very much like to know what he has done to create such complete silence in even this continuously whisper filled room. 

It is not a single man though, merely a speaker for the delegation that stands in front of Odin. While the group holds their heads bowed in reverence, their leader now rises from his kneeling position and looks towards Odin with an even and unreadable stare. Indeed his face is as tight as his dark hair that is pulled back into a knot and Loki cannot perceive from him what his purpose is here by his silence alone, as he is usually prone to do with others. 

The crowd does not have to wait long though as it is Odin who addresses the mysterious group, “Greetings, Hogun of Vanaheim.”

“Greetings, King Odin of Asgard,” Hogun responds in return, his monotone voice echoing through the hall with ease, despite its hushed manner. “Fire Giants from Muspelheim have invaded Vanaheim and I beseech you, in your grace, to assist us.”

Loki lets out an audible exhale as he thinks that this Hogun does not beat around the issue. Yet an issue it indeed is, one that even has Odin's normally rigid face creased in concern. Slowly Odin leans forward, his grip on Gungnir tightening ever so slightly, before he asks, “Why have the Fire Giants come to Vanaheim, what is their purpose?”

“At first it was simple destruction,” Hogun responds evenly, his stance remaining stiff. “We have dealt with raiders before, but the Fire Giants have stayed far longer than for just simple raiding.”

“Then why do they remain?”

With this question Hogun gives his first flicker of doubt. Loki can see it dulling his eyes and causing his fingers to curl slightly at his side where they had hung with formality before. Hogun's gaze darts towards the group that has accompanied him for just a moment before he steadily answers, “Sire, I believe that the Fire Giants have come to steal something specific.”

“There is no evidence of such a thing,” a woman in the accompanying party states with a voice as monotone as her companion, though more passionate. As she steps forward to stand beside Hogun her long, black plaited hair falls from her shoulder and swings across her back. Her dark gaze is as defiant as her straight stance as she turns towards Odin and continues directly, “The Fire Giants have wreaked havoc in three of our towns and we do not have the resources or the manpower to combat an assault from them on another town, let alone a city.”

“We do not call upon you lightly, King Odin,” Hogun adds as if apologizing for his companion's outburst. Yet, as Loki sees it, she has far more reason and practicality than he. For a moment he wonders if she will speak again, her knowledge decimating her fellow countryman, and Loki cannot help but smile as she indeed does.

“Sire, we would not come here unless the risk towards losing more lives is great,” the woman says, her fingers interlacing in front of her simple tunic dress. “We come for the sake of Vanaheim, but we also come for the sake of peace in the Realms.”

“A duty I take seriously,” Odin responds, his grip on Gungnir lessening the more she speaks. “Before an enemy can be defeated though, internal quarrels should be quelled. Hogun, I would have you speak your suspicions before Skadi speaks her peace.”

There are simple-minded people on Midgard who tell fantastical stories of those here on Asgard, deeming their abilities godlike. One such tale tells of how Odin gave up his eye to gain all the wisdom in the universe. While Loki knows that his father lost his eye battling Frost Giants when he was just a baby, he still sometimes wonders if he indeed gain all the wisdom of the universe when losing it. For knowing the name of this woman without previously seeing her must surely be a skill magically acquired from the wisdom of a missing eye. It seems that Skadi is contemplating the same thing, as her straight face contorts towards suspicious questioning, even as Hogun steps forward a pace to speak. 

“Sire, as you know the people of Vanaheim are gifted in the art of magic,” Hogun begins, his drone voice filling the hall once more. “The Queen has studied with our scholars, as you know. That is what the Fire Giants are after. They desire something we have created with magic to use as or create a weapon.”

“Do you know what it is they seek?”

“No, sire, but I can think of no other reason for their invading, especially when their raiding has only filled their granary stores and not their treasures.”

“They only take what they need because the towns they have raided have nothing else to offer,” Skadi interjects, her arms crossing over her chest as she speaks. Yet she voices nothing further as Odin stares her into silence for talking out-of-place.

The amused smile on Loki's face remains as he watches her twitch slightly, her stance inclining her hatred towards her muted state, as Hogun continues. “They have found treasure and they have found goods worth a sizable sum, yet they let it all remain. They have not found what they are looking for yet.”

“Yes, more people to terrorize,” Skadi scoffs under her breath.

“No, the magic they need to fuel the weapon they are creating.”

“You have no evidence that they are creating anything.”

“Deduction points to this possibility.”

Skadi opens her mouth to retort once more when Odin says firmly, “Enough, it is clear, no matter what side, that the Fire Giants are invading a peaceful Vanaheim and need to be driven back to Muspelheim. I offer you my finest warriors to help with this campaign, including my own sons. Allow Asgard to extend her hospitality to you all until our troops can be gathered.”

“Our thanks to you, King Odin,” Hogun says, his stern face neither showing displeasure nor happiness at gaining what he came for upon this conclusion. 

Skadi, on the other hand, while she bows to Odin as stiffly as Hogun does now, still shows happiness laced with annoyance in her relative silence. Loki keeps his eyes trained on her as she, Hogun, and the other representatives are led out of the hall. For the second time in a single day Loki is drawn back to reality by Fandral's inquiring voice. 

“Well, I might not see warfare,” he says with a slight edge to his usually merry tone, “but at least you and Thor will.”

“I and Thor will what?” Loki asks as Skadi vanishes from his sight and he turns to focus entirely on Fandral. However, with the hall now open, the voice around them only allowed Loki to hear part of what Fandral jibed about.

Fandral seems to take no offense though as he merely rolls his eyes at Loki. “I should have assumed you would be this aloof upon knowing you will see battle soon.”

Though Loki had heard the words spoken from his father, he does not fully comprehend them until now. His heart jumps into his throat and his hands tremble slightly at his sides. Desperately he tries to bring life to his dry mouth but to no avail as he chokes out, “Surely you will accompany us.”

Fandral gives Loki a small smile and a wink. “I think I could make it so if I have the good word of a prince on my side. One who surely cannot live without my presence beside him.”

Loki's mouth feels less dry this time as he laughs lightly and jabs, “Then you will have to find Thor soon to earn such a favor.”

Fandral laughs heartily as he drapes an arm across Loki's shoulder and they begin to walk out of the slowly emptying hall. “Oh, this will be a good campaign.”

While Loki would like to echo the sentiment, he merely nods in agreement. Years of training, of studying tactics and strategies, and of crafting magic alongside weaponry is meaningless if not implemented. While Loki knows this, he still cannot help that his nerves tingle in frightened anticipation at seeing battle for the first time. 

As if sensing his friend's distress, Fandral gives Loki's shoulders a gentle squeeze, for words have little meaning when a small gesture is worth a great deal more. For that Loki offers Fandral a small smile and mutters, “Come, we should tell Thor.”

“Splendid,” Fandral all but cries as he drags Loki forward and towards his brother who will be far more excited to see battle than he. 

Before they can leave the hall entirely though, their path is blocked by an ominous figure. In the last few years Loki has not had too look up at his father as he once did, as he comes close to the time when he will start eating the golden apples to keep his youth. However, even as he stands just as tall as his father now, he still feels like he is looking up at him. 

Remembering his place, Loki bows his head slightly and mutters, “Father.”

“I would speak to both you and Thor,” Odin says factually, giving no indication as to whether the meeting will lend towards good or bad intentions. “Meet in my chambers within the hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

Loki only gives Fandral a quick sideways glance as his father strides away before he darts off to find his brother. Swiftly Fandral trails after him, saying, “I assume your first pre-battle meeting then?”

“I will have to tell you later if you presume right.”

“Wait, I thought premonition was one of your skills?” Fandral offers Loki a smile of jest and Loki merely shakes his head at the effort to sooth his worries.

“It is a skill I would greatly desire right now.”

“Your tone makes the reasoning seem darker than for the purpose of mere meetings.”

“I would like to see what lies ahead in Vanaheim, that I cannot deny,” Loki responds, breaching the subject that is truly at hand. “However, even without this ability, without this foresight, I will try to find ease in seeing warfare for the first time. Not as swiftly as Thor will, but I have just as much bravery as he.”

“And that, Loki, is what matters.”

Loki finally offers Fandral a kind smile before he nods his head in the direction of the training grounds. “Go, help me. Thor is always in one of two places. I shall check his room.”

“And I the courtyard.”

“My gratitude, Fandral.”

“Let me see battle with you and you will have my gratitude as well.”

Loki only laughs lightly as he breaks away from Fandral and bounds up the stairs towards Thor's room. He does not have to seek for long though as he turns a corner and runs into Thor entirely. Rubbing his head slightly, where it had collided with Thor's thick skull, Loki glares at his brother in annoyance. 

Yet Thor is quick to say, “Apologies, brother, but you came at me like a Bilgesnipe charging.”

Though Thor is light in his manner, Loki still finds himself grumbling in response, “We are to meet in Father's chambers presently.”

“Oh, all right.”

As Thor begins to lead the way, Loki's brooding discomfort begins to dissipate and he begins again with more calm. “It is I who should apologize instead of you.”

Thor waves his hand as if to swat away the unwanted words. “I would rather have you speak what is on your mind and why Father has summoned us.”

“We are going to war in Vanaheim.”

Thor does not even break his stride as he asks, “Vanaheim, at war?”

“Under attack is more like it,” Loki responds before he informs Thor of all he heard in the Hall of Asgard. All the while Thor listens and only comments in the way of confirming questions. Swiftly though Loki concludes the story as they find themselves outside the large doors of their parent's chambers. While one half is designated for their mother, it being the comforting environment of Loki's lessons in magic, the other half is their father's. It is there that they turn towards now as they walk through the large doors in silence. 

Loki's stomach always drops towards his feet whenever he enters this section of the palace. Flowers, decorations, and comfortable furnishings greet him on their mother's side. Bare starkness greet them now, with a round table surrounded by stiff backed chairs and high ceilings that make Loki feel small. It is a war council room, that is without a doubt. While Thor takes ease in a seat, Loki feels as stiff as the one he sits upon, his nerves alight and his eyes darting. Too many horrid incidents and harsh reprimands have come to him in this room for Loki to ever be as at ease as Thor. 

Though he is unsure how such a thing is possible, Loki sits up a little straighter as their father walks in. Loki feels even more uncertain as Odin chooses to stand and address his sons. He questions Thor first, “Are you aware of what is happening?”

“I do,” Thor responds steadily, though the smile that threatens to peak out gives away his excitement. 

“Then it is settled. This matter in Vanaheim can be easily rectified and that is why I will have Volstagg accompany you.”

“Instead of yourself?” Loki questions with apparent concern, as he is better able to hide his relief than Thor is in his excitement. 

“You should be present, Father,” Thor objects vigorously. “It is our first war.”

“It is not war, it will simply be a small battle or two, nothing more. It is a rift that Volstagg is capable of leading against instead of myself.”

“Know we are saddened that you will not see our victory.”

“Our time to fight battles together, Thor, are many in the future.” Though Loki's eyes dart downward at this comment, Odin continues without a second thought. “For Vanaheim, it will be but a practice in the ways of real warfare for all of you.”

“All of us?” Loki asks, prompting in hopes of hearing his desired answer. 

“Other trainees working under Volstagg will make up part of the party going with you. The other part will be a contingency of Einherjar veterans.”

For once, at least in the presence of their father, both Loki and Thor smile. Relief comes in knowing veterans will be alongside them, comfort comes in knowing friends will be there as well. Therefore, with a satisfied nod, Odin begins to offer his sons insight into what might lie ahead of them in Vanaheim. While Loki listens intently, he also holds a very predominant thought in his mind. If battle and war is all his father can relate to at times, then perhaps Loki can win favor in his eyes once again if he does well in Vanaheim. 

 


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**  
** “The afterlife will greet you soon if that is all you carry,” Hogun says, his eyes narrow in speculation, as he walks beside Loki on their way to the Bifrost observatory. 

Thor flashes his brother a concealed smile as he walks on Hogun's other side and this is all Loki needs to encourage his response, “My arsenal is far greater than whatever you carry at your side.”

While Loki very well expects Hogun to scoff at this, he instead comments with insight. “You possess the same magic as your mother then?”

“Indeed I do.” Loki smiles for the first time at the gruff Hogun. “You are of Vanaheim though, do you not use magic in your warfare as well?”

Hogun curtly shakes his head. “No. Though you may fight like my kin, I fight like yours. I use only weaponry in battle. But there are others that we will join once we are in Vanaheim who use magic as you do.”

“Then we will be a band of unstoppable warriors,” Thor says as the shadow of the Bifrost observatory falls in their path. 

Loki's eyes dart upward, towards the pointed conic that adorns the mighty shining orb that is the portal between worlds. At least, Loki thinks to himself, the only portal most believe there to be in Asgard. Heimdall, his tall figure creating as much of a shadow as the observatory he guards, greets them now.

“You seek passage to Vanaheim,” Heimdall states rather than questions. 

As Thor steps forward to converse with Heimdall, Loki instead keeps his eyes trained on those around him. They dart from one person to the next, seeing the Einherjar veterans alongside the men and women he has trained with for years now. Then there are the ambassadors from Vanaheim that accompanied Hogun. Though he is unsure just how many of them will fight beside them, Loki wonders if the steadfast Skadi will, for surely she has a warrior's heart. Loki's eyes then fall upon the determined and excited faces of Fandral and Sif and for a moment Loki feels light at heart. To know that they will fight by his side, as well as Thor, surprisingly means a great deal to him. Loki shakes his head slightly, as if baffled at himself, for even in these past years of culminating his magic on his own, he still greatly likes the idea of fighting beside his friends.

There is no beat of war drums, no sounding of horns, as the party marching into Vanaheim watches Heimdall open the Bifrost and the observatory whirls around them. The hum of the Bifrost is enough of a war cry to make the blood pump a little faster in Loki's veins as he steps forward to stand beside Hogun and Thor once again. Thor glances over at him, a smile on his face and his hand already falling upon the sword at his side in preparation of what will greet them in Vanaheim.

Then there is the tingling that comes just before the Bifrost takes hold and pulls you through the expanse of space. Loki loves the sensation, loves the moment where it feels like his stomach is falling to his feet and then instantly flying back up to his throat, as if he has fallen a great distance very quickly. That is precisely what is happening though as the Bifrost takes hold of him and he surges forward with nothing but the feeling of falling a great distance and the swirling hues of the spectrum flying by.

And then, just like that, Loki's feet find stability on solid ground. He takes a confident step forward, as he knows movement makes the effects of the Bifrost dissipate quicker. Though Thor already had a hand on his weapon in Asgard, Loki's hand falls towards the line of throwing knives adorning his belt now as he looks around the wide expanse of Vanaheim. Yet, he wonders, if his guard is wrong to be so quick for their party is not met by the sound of screams or the smell of fire, but instead by silence.

There is a rustling in the forest though, a sudden quake through the expanse of silence as a flock of birds spring forth from the trees as a line of warriors come to greet them. The warriors Hogun had said would be here warmly greet their ambassadors newly arrived from Asgard and swiftly lines shift. Though he is not entirely surprised, Loki is still saddened as he sees Skadi leave with the ambassadors, giving no indication that she will fight as well. It seems her battles are fought with words and for that Loki envies her. To fight with words is something he would greatly like to do, yet he knows that fighting in arms will achieve his means more easily today.

Therefore Loki listens intently as Hogun begins to distribute orders. Gruffly he says, loud enough for all to hear, “I received information just before we left Asgard that the Fire Giants were last seen a few leagues north of this location. Those who will be fighting will follow to assess the situation, and the Fire Giants, before we attempt to attack them.”

Though he does not have to do such a thing, Hogun still turns to Thor and offers him a look that opens the way for him to add anything as well. Thor takes the opportunity to simply bellow, “Fall in.”

It is no Berserker army that falls behind Hogun and Thor, but instead disciplined and well trained soldiers who quickly fall in time to the pace that is being led. Northward they go, parting ways with the ambassadors and striking their own path. While Loki could very well look at the forested beauty that is around him, he instead internally grumbles as he marches. Hogun should have turned to both of them, to see what both of them wanted to say, yet he had only turned to Thor. For this a small scowl comes to Loki's face as he does not listen to the birds chirping in the trees but instead focuses on the harsh sound of moving feet, metal clanking, and even the long tassets of his leather tunic slapping against his thighs as he walks.

“You usually do well to conceal your true feelings,” Sif says softly as she switches with the man beside Loki so that she might walk alongside him. “Yet resentment clearly shows on your face now.”

“What emotion should I show?” Loki asks, barely able to look at Sif as she speaks such truths. 

“Excitement, fear, nervousness, trepidation, any number of things countless warriors have felt before battle.”

Loki's eyes fall towards the ground for a moment before he briefly glances up at her. Sif is radiant in the afternoon light above them. Though her armor is layers of pieced together and borrowed metal she still wears it with pride. She, as well as Loki, Thor, and Fandral, have had to make due with the armor they wear during their training as the forgers could not create something new in the short amount of time they had before their departure. Perhaps she will be honored with her own armor when we get back, Loki muses silently, surely she will prove her worth on the battlefield here. Though, he knows in his heart, that she had proven her worth already, no battle is needed.

He does not voice these thoughts though, instead Loki swallows hard and asks, “Is that what you feel now?”

There is a spark of passion in her eyes as she responds readily, “Absolutely, every single one of them.”

The ground suddenly shakes beneath them and the entire battalion halts without orders to do so being given. Thor and Hogun look to each other for a moment before taking a few cautious steps forward. They barely get a step before the ground shakes once again and alongside it comes the loud bellow of a man. At least it sounds like a man, it could very well be an inhuman creature for all they know without a sighting to tell them otherwise.

For a fraction of a moment Loki wonders if he should project himself forward to better gauge what is waiting for them in the distance. However, as a small breeze filters through the trees it is not the sharp, sweetness of pines that tickle his nose. It is fire.

Glancing towards Sif, who stands stock still beside him, Loki asks softly, “Still feeling every one of them?”

“And a few more,” Sif responds evenly, her eyes remaining on the forest in front of them as her hand reaches towards the sword at her side. 

“We should march forward,” Thor says to Hogun as they continue to smell smoke, but do not yet know where it is coming from. Without a doubt though, it has either been caused by the Fire Giants or it is the Fire Giants themselves. 

Hogun shakes his head and responds, “No, we should stay here and have them come to us.”

“They do not even know we are here. Nor do we know if they will come in this direction.”

Hogun is about to respond again when Loki quickly interjects, “We should send scouts ahead, to confirm if it is the Fire Giants we seek or someone else. If it is the Fire Giants, we also need to know how many there are, in comparison to our numbers.”

“We are mighty in numbers, brother,” Thor says with mirth. “We have a strength far greater than theirs no matter.”

Though there are moments when Loki would like nothing more than to punch his brother to stop him from saying more insane statements fueled by bravery alone, he merely smiles softly now. “Even with such, we need to know our enemy before we simply charge.”

While Thor shakes his head slightly in disbelief, clearly believing the opposite, Hogun nods his head and says, “I agree. Send two of your swiftest to forge ahead and report back.”

“I shall go and Sif as well.”

“You and Sif?” Thor asks in some confusion. 

Loki holds to his decision though, nodding affirmatively before Hogun says, “Go then, and swiftly too.”

Without further pause Loki calls for Sif and they set off immediately, though not without a look of wondering concern gracing Sif's face. She does not ask why Loki chose to take her though, instead she simply follows him as the remainder of their party waits. They set out at a light jog, each striding equally beside the other until the dense covering of trees around them thins and they are forced to slow their pace lest they be seen. Loki turns and skirts along the edge of the tree line as his eyes take in all that is now before him.

Stretching out from the forest is a clear meadow, one that would be adorned with flowers this time of year and instead looks like a hearth fire in the morning after a feast. The bitter sting of smoke reaches their noses and for a moment they have to look away or else their eyes will water to the point of blurring their vision. As they continue to walk though, they find that their eyes do not sting as much so long as they stay west of the burned village. For that is what truly lies before them, not a scorched meadow, but instead a hollowed out village.

Loki's heart jumps into his throat as another bellow echoes around them and the ground shakes once again. For a moment they pause, Sif's eyes darting towards Loki waiting for orders to move again, before he does slowly start walking again. Though there is the hollow remains of a village and the sounds of Fire Giants, their eyes have yet to behold one. Unable to contain her silence any further, Sif quietly whispers, “Where are they?”

As if they sensed her question, or even heard it, Loki is forced to shove Sif back into the cover of the forest as three Fire Giants come into their view. Crouching down into the underbrush, Loki and Sif take in their opponents for the first time. They are fiercely tall, at least twice as tall as Sif, and their stout bodies does not lend way to inhibitions towards movement as they stride quickly across the destitute field. Loki also knows very well that it is not a trick of the light that plays across their broad faces as their beards and long hair flicker as if aflame, for indeed they are kindled with a natural fire.

Loki and Sif hold their positions as they watch more Fire Giants join these three. Swiftly Loki begins to tally up their numbers in his head as they begin to set up their camp along the river that flows along the western border of the village, between the burnt fields and the forest. The ground shakes once more as a Fire Giant lets out a hearty laugh and stomps his foot in merriment. Though Sif tenses in her position, feeling the reverberations through her entire body, Loki merely turns to her and offers her a comforting smile. For he at least has observed everything he needs to combat these fierce giants.

With a single nod of his head Loki indicates for Sif to follow him back towards the south and to their own party. They do not utter a word to each other as their feet skim across the floor of the forest, both still trying to be as quiet as possible to not rouse an alarm from the enemy. When they are within sight of joining Hogun, Thor, and the other warriors, Sif finally asks under her breath, “What will you tell?”

“I, and I hope you as well, will merely tell what we have observed.”

“The plan you already have in your head though, the tactic you have chosen, voice it.”

Loki pauses for a moment and turns to Sif with confusion creased on his brow. “What do you speak of? I have no...”

“Would you rather look at the ground again in resignation when Hogun and Thor decide for us without seeing what we saw? Or would you rather offer your own strategy?”

“Even if...”

“Yes, even if they will not listen,” Sif swiftly adds before Loki can even finish the question. “Others will see that you know the ways of war just as much as Thor that way.”

Loki begins to walk again, though his pace is slow, and he cannot help but ask, “Why are you insisting on this?”

Sif only shakes her head lightly, her tied back hair swishing lightly against her back. “The only rival on this battlefield should be the Fire Giants. For that, I would rather see you advise Thor.”

A slight smirk comes to Loki's face as they break from the forest and rejoin their party. It graces his face for two reasons, the first being that he had no idea Sif cared so much and the second being that he knows without a doubt he is capable of advising Thor. Yet, in addendum to the latter, Loki feels a rush of excitement knowing that his advise could either destroy the Fire Giants or cause the death of those now looking towards him for a report. It is a surge of power to be the one who knows information that others do not, to hold someone's fate in the turn of a tongue, and yet Loki knows full well that he is here to redeem himself. Therefore he sets to purpose in his mind and strides towards Hogun and Thor with determination to indeed speak truth when he knows he could very well lie.

“There is a destroyed village just a league from here that the Fire Giants have made as their camp,” Loki begins, his eyes darting between Hogun's and Thor's, maintaining their gaze and their attention entirely. “Their position is along a river that flows between the forest and the fields, at least the burned remains of fields. It is a wide expanse, the village is abandoned and could offer us shelter, but I would not suggest such a thing.”

Thor looks up towards the waning sun and questions, “Would you have us attack today?”

A flutter of hope swells in Loki's heart as he hears this question, instead of a disregard. With a little more hope in seeing reason with Thor, he surges forward with his answer. “No, we are moderately rested, but no. Our forces are equal to theirs and I would split our forces into two groups. One would make camp in the forest west of here, cross the river during the night, and then attack the Fire Giants unawares at dawn. The other would cross the river tonight, make camp just outside of the village, and come in from the north-east for battle when the Fire Giants are already being attacked in the west. That way we would be able to pin them in all directions, with the village in the east, the river to the west and south, and our troops in the west, north, and east.”

“Surround them so they have nowhere to go,” Hogun confirms more than asks as he nods his head in understanding and thinks fully upon the idea.

“Exactly,” Loki confirms with resolution.

“We should not split our forces though,” Thor says with concern on his face as he looks towards those waiting to hear their orders. “We are equal to the Fire Giants in numbers, as you so said, we should remain as a single force then.”

“It is the safer route, yes,” Loki says, wondering if he will indeed have to convince Thor of his strategy. “However, catching the Fire Giants unawares has its advantages.”

“It seems cowardly to attack them at dawn in such a way.”

“It will lessen their morale instantly when they realize they are not ready and we are completely. We do not even know if this is just a small band or the whole of the Fire Giants who have come here to pillage. We could be dealing with just a small battalion on the other side of that river and I would much rather keep our numbers with this tactic than loose many outright by charging in with both sides at full strength.”

“It is not tactic you speak of, but trickery, Loki.”

“Tactic is not always two forces lining up on their designated horizons, waiting for one to blast a horn to charge at one another.”

Before Thor can say anything further, though he is poised to, Sif says earnestly, “Though the Fire Giants are equal to our numbers, they are still a force larger than ours. Their height alone will be something to be reckoned with and I for one would rather have the advantage when fighting them.”

“Which is exactly why we need to work together to combat them,” Thor says vigorously, “and not be divided.”

“Hogun, I would have your thoughts,” Thor says with practicality. Both he and Loki turn towards the man who brought them here and wait upon his answer.

Drawing out the silence Hogun's eyes narrow as he contemplates the two plans set before him. Finally he responds with precise curtness, “We will attack them with one force, but we will cross the river tonight to take them by surprise in the morning.”

A compromise. And yet Loki would like nothing more than to grit his teeth and relay the foolishness of such a tactic. Yet he offers Hogun a sharp nod none the less and says, “I agree.”

“As do I,” Thor adds with his own nod of approval. He then turns to the warriors waiting for our decision and says loud enough for all to hear, “We advance towards the Fire Giants and we do battle with them in the morrow.”

There are no cheers of jubilation, such things will come later after weapons have been sheathed and wounds mended. Instead there is revered silence that is soon driven away by the sound of marching feet once again. Though he had trailed behind before, Loki now strides beside his brother and Hogun, essentially leading the way to the north-west where they will be able to make the best camp at the edge of the woods. He may not have won the whole of his argument but he will be damned if he is not going to at least see through the part of his plan they have chosen to do.

Loki halts them a fair distance away from the destroyed village, picking a dense spot in the forest where they will not be seen or heard by the Fire Giants, even if they scout beyond the river which is a thing Loki does not think they will do. With the protection, and the noise, of the river separating them from the Fire Giants they should find ease tonight, gaining the rest they deserve and need before battle tomorrow. Yet it is not with a sigh of content that Loki finds himself sinking to the ground to find rest presently.

Instead Loki makes his way through the camp, helping to pitch tents and firmly reminding everyone not to light fires, for such a thing would easily be seen by the Fire Giants. To give away their position would mean utter destruction for them as the element of surprise would be as lost as the sun now becomes as it dips below the horizon. As the camp settles into quiet murmurs and tired oblivion, Loki begins to relax and finds his way towards his brother once again.

“A fine bit of work you did there,” Fandral says softly, though no less joyously, as Loki passes him.

“On what do you speak?” Loki asks lightly, a true smile coming to his face.

“The whole lot.”

“Well, don't compliment me just yet, we still have a battle to win.”

Fandral scoffs, as if such a thing is of little merit to him when surely the nerves of war plague him as well. “Things that look daunting at twilight never look that frightening by the light of morning.”

“I will remind you of these words tomorrow when your sword quivers in your hand,” Loki says with a slight laugh before he walks the few paces from Fandral's tent to Thor's.

For a moment Loki is taken aback when he sees that a second tent has been built beside Thor's and before Loki can question it, Thor says, “You were busy so I put up yours as well.”

“My thanks to you, brother,” Loki responds as he gladly takes the piece of dry meat Thor offers him before sitting down on the hard ground. “You did not have to do such a thing.”

“You didn't have to make sure all were settled in for the night and yet you did.”

Loki offers Thor a cocky grin. “Well, you weren't doing it.”

Thor shakes his head, his long mane of hair falling across his face before he reaches out a hand and playfully punches Loki's shoulder. He says louder than he should, “Tomorrow my sword will bring many Fire Giants to their end, that is what I should be doing.”

“Still your voice or your sword will know the heat of blood sooner than we desire.”

“Apologies,” Thor responds in a softer tone. “I have longed for this day for some time now, that is all.”

“You have longed for battle?”

“I have longed to prove my worth in the battlefield.”

Loki tilts his head as he watches Thor gnaw into the chunk of dried meat in his hand. Though he would like to echo Thor's sentiment, he remains quiet, knowing that repetition does not equal a merging of like meaning. Without a doubt Loki knows that he longs to prove himself on the battlefield, but he does it to prove to his father that he is worthy, not to prove to others that he is a fine warrior. Yet, Loki wonders as he continues to tilt his head and contemplate such things, is that what Thor is trying to prove? Or is he trying to prove his worth to himself?

A snort of derision emanates from Loki as he shakes his head towards such an insane thought. Thor looks at him with some confusion and is about to question him when both brothers see something flash. Their eyes instantly train upon the single warrior who has unsheathed his sword, in eagerness to sharpen it before the coming battle, and in doing so has caused the metal to reflect brightly against the setting sun.

Loki and Thor looks at each other for only a moment before they spring forward in opposite directions, neither one having to say to the other their purpose for moving forward as they both seem to already know. While Thor moves towards the warrior, to tell him to put down his weapon before he causes any more reflections to flicker from their position, Loki moves towards the edge of the forest. Crouching down in the brush, just as he had done with Sif not long ago, Loki looks out across the river towards the Fire Giant's camp. He holds his breath as he waits for movement, for a cry, for a horn to blast, anything from the enemy camp that will tell him that they have been spotted.

Slowly Loki lets out a long breath as he hears and sees nothing from the Fire Giant's camp. Suddenly, though, his blood runs cold as a horn blast pierces the air, echoing so loudly that the leaves above Loki quake as if in fear. With eyes wide Loki turns and runs back to his fellow warriors, knowing that he must tell them they will soon be under attack.

 


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**  
**Green. That is what Loki had told his mother when she had inquired as to what color he wished to adorn his armor when the time came to make it. This was long before thoughts of battle, of warfare, had even graced his mind. Even when he was preparing to leave for Vanaheim, he had not thought of properly made armor, he merely put on the same off-white tunic and worn black leather armor he always wore during training. He thinks of the green now though as the earth shakes beneath his feet while he stands tall beside the other warriors at the edge of the forest.

Green. Like the trees above him and the brush beneath him. Everlasting and eternal; never dying completely and always being reborn even after the harshest winters. It is a sacred color that will always remind him that even if he is to fall in battle, he will never truly die in memory. At least such is his hope. However, he is unsure now as not a sliver of green adorns him. He faces battle none the less, with only his daggers and his wits. He would like to be awash in green and yet he is as the forest surrounds him in many shades of it. For that he lets a slight smile flicker across his face.

They step forth from the forest though, moving away from the protective colors that would herald protection. Loki does not feel diminished though, as he steps further away from this protection, instead he feels nervous determination swell through him. His original plan was changed, their current plan has changed, and yet Loki is already formulating a new one as their ranks move across the meadow between the forest and the river. Beyond the lazy course of the water are the Fire Giants, their marching feet causing the earth to stir and the last remaining creatures in the forest to scatter. All except the warriors of Asgard and Vanaheim.

They no longer have the advantage, they can no longer cut off the Fire Giants in the north and east, and they are tired when the Fire Giants could very well be rested. Every element of this attack is against them, Loki realizes, and even as he marches forward, shoulder to shoulder with Thor and Fandral, his mind formulates new tactics. While Thor merely sees an enemy to destroy, a meritable form of fighting, Loki also knows that it is more meritable to look in advance. Sometimes outsmarting the enemy is just as well as clashing arms with them.

The river, they still have the river on their side. In what manner, Loki does not yet know but he is already working away at the possibilities as Fandral draws forth his foil sword. Looking over at him for a moment Loki notices that his hand shakes slightly, the foil rocking as if caught in the wind when there is none to be had. Beyond Fandral he can see Sif pulling forth her sword and extending it to its two blades that cause the weapon to be nearly as tall as she. Though the weapon she wields is mighty, and the steady look upon her face filled with strength, her hand still continues to slip and replace its grip on the sword with each footfall. They do not show it out-rightly, they do not even speak it, yet for Loki it is comforting to know that his friends are as nervous as he is to step into their first battle.

The Fire Giants are running at them now, their kindled beards and hair glowing ever brighter in the dimming twilight, and Thor reaches for his sword now too. His grasp is firm though, as firm as Hogun's is on his mace, for he has seen many battles before this one and ones far greater than he is sure this will become. There should be speeches, Thor contemplates, there should be cries of war and promises of victory to stir hearts towards bravery.

Instead what he receives is Loki calling forth, “Halt.”

“Halt?” Thor questions quietly as the warriors around him quickly follow his brother's order. “They are coming at us, we need to charge.”

Thor is about to give this as his very own order when Loki shakes his head vigorously and swiftly utters, “We have no advantage but the river, we need to have them cross it or we are lost.”

Though Thor would like to argue there is no time for such things as the Fire Giants continue to advance, moving into the river just as Loki said they should. A hiss fills the air, accompanying the sound of grunts and war cries, and Loki instantly realizes that while the water does not do a great deal of damage to the Fire Giants, their hot flesh still steams when in contact with it.

When just two Fire Giants are left to cross the river Thor turns to look at his brother and firmly says, “We attack, now.”

Loki barely has time to nod his head before Thor's voice booms over him and gives the order to attack. Fandral's hand is steadier, Sif's grip is tighter, and Thor's strength moves him forward above the rest to charge at the first Fire Giant to come at their ranks. Loki pauses for but a moment before he is running behind Thor. He curses himself for hesitating, yet fear still irks in him when it no longer lingers in the others. Try as he might though, he pushes this aside and focuses on the energy he will need to defeat what is in front of him.

There is a moment of silence, a single breath when Loki wonders if the whole realm has become mute and devoid of sound. It has not though, as sound only diminishes slightly before the clash of arms reverberates so loudly that Loki would like nothing more than to press his hands again ears to refrain the assault. The Fire Giants wield mighty axes and long swords that fall down upon the weapons of his fellow warriors that now seem small in comparison. Yet the hearty cries that accompany fighting are a great deal louder from his companions, than from the Fire Giants, and with this Loki surges forward.

His weapons do not clash though, they do not make a might ring of metal meeting metal as the others do. Instead it is pure energy that shoots forth from Loki's hand and flies through the air before it hits the breastplate of a Fire Giant, causing the fierce being to take a step back from the assault. The Fire Giant attacks again and Loki grits his teeth as he culminates another charge of energy in his hands before sending it spiraling towards his assailant.

The others, Fandral, Sif, and Thor, had always made their weapons training to look like exercise. Even now, in the brief moments Loki is able to divert his eyes away from what he is doing, he sees the exertion and the coarseness of his companion's movements as they attack the Fire Giants that are loath to be defeated easily. Yet Loki always found warfare to be like a dance. A step to his left and he can dodge the swing of an ax. Turn around and he is able to throw an assault of culminated energy at a Fire Giant threatening to strike him down from behind. Manipulate the world around him, cultivating an illusionary copy of himself to distract the enemy and he is able to slice through the exposed side of a Fire Giant. All is done with delicate moves and sure footing. It is graceful, even as blood splatters across his cheek.

Loki's own blood pumps within him, his beating heart keeping him in time to his own dancing feet. He falters for a moment as his foot slides across the churned up earth that runs dark with blood and rich soil. The smell fascinates Loki, for it is both fresh in the manner of nature being plowed up and yet also decaying with the guts and twisted limbs that now sow it. For a moment he takes a breath and simply breathes in the destruction he has caused. Joy does not grace his face in this moment, yet nor does disgust. Instead Loki holds his face in reserve, for the day is not yet done even as the sun sets in the horizon.

The field turns into an inky blackness as the stars begin to shine and the only light that guides swinging swords is the kindled beards and hair of the Fire Giants. It is not enough, Loki thinks to himself, and swiftly he builds a light source within himself, pulling it forth from the deepest recesses of his being for his energy is beginning to deplete. With a cry of pain, for such magic does send a ripple through him that makes it feel like his skin is prickling with a hundred needles, Loki sends forth a second sun. The sky instantly illuminates in a bright golden, green glow.

The Fire Giants are startled by this and seeing their hesitation Thor lets out a mighty war cry and charges forward again, the others swiftly seeing the advantage and charging forward as well. Drawing forth a dagger from his belt, Loki throws it towards one of the Fire Giants that is about to attack Sif whilst she is in the midst of fending off another Giant. The dagger slices into his neck and in an instant he is on the ground, clutching at the small weapon in his neck but his blood soaked hands slip away lifelessly before he can pull it out. Swiftly Loki strides the few feet to retrieve it. There is a sickening squelch as the dead flesh tries to hold onto the weapon before Loki is able to pry it completely free.

“Should I thank you?” Sif asks, her words strained and breathless as she pushes a stray clump of hair away from her sweaty and blood stained face.

Loki shakes his head as he says, “Duck.”

Quickly Sif kneels down on the ground as Loki lets a dagger fly through the air and towards a charging Fire Giant. His aim is not as accurate as it was the last time and the dagger only pierces the Giant's shoulder. With a growl the Fire Giant continues forward. Hearing this Sif springs up, twists through the air, and slices her sword through his abdomen. The Fire Giant halts and clutches at his stomach that threatens to spill forth all that is vital to him. Sif tilts her own head as she observes him falling to his knees before she swings her sword once more, cutting his head clean from his shoulders. Without hesitation she bends over the corpse, who's internal fire is slowly beginning to flicker away into oblivion, and pulls forth Loki's dagger.

Though the chaos continues around them, Sif takes a moment to hand Loki back his dagger. He takes it with a nod of gratitude and says with breath as strained and dry as hers, “Thank you.”

Sif's face softens slightly and then in a heartbeat it changes to utter fear as she cries out in warning, “Loki!”

A Fire Giant slips past Fandral and stumbles towards Loki. Before he is able to even turn around and combat him the Fire Giant falls towards Loki entirely, his massive form bringing him down easily. The heat from the Giant is intense as Loki's face comes close to his beard. Though he wishes that the Giant had fallen upon one of his copies he is unable to do anything about him falling upon his real person now. Therefore he does the only thing he knows he can do as the heat around him begins to singe the fabric of his tunic and scorch the leather of his armor. With a mighty heft Loki presses his hands against the shoulders of the Fire Giant and pushes up. The Giant flies through the air as it is not just Loki's hand that pushes him, but his magic as well.

The Fire Giant falls into the blood soaked mud near the river with a grunt and the squish of earth beneath him. Before Loki can spring up to finish the fight, Thor is upon him, driving his sword into his heart so much that when it is drawn forth again there is both mud as well as blood staining the blade. Though Thor looks over at his brother in triumph, his smile quickly falls as he sees Loki looking down at his slightly burned hands.

Thor takes a step towards Loki, and is about to voice his concern for his brother's health, when Loki shakes his head and mutters, “I'm fine.”

With a single nod of understanding Thor merely responds, “They are not retreating as I thought they would. We need to stop them here, but I fear our numbers are fading as well.”

Loki's gaze falls towards the river where he would greatly like to place his stinging hands into, and an idea springs to his mind. “Drive them towards the river.”

Thor tilts his head slightly, ready to question his brother, but he instead thinks better of it as he bellows the order, “To the river!”

Hearing and taking up the call those of Vanaheim and Asgard who still fight on begin to formulate a half circle around the remaining Fire Giants, slowly pushing them towards the river. Loki stays back, allowing only copies of himself to spring forth and distract when they are needed, and instead focuses his energy on the river. Once again he wishes he could run his hands through it, feel the cold stream lick at his stinging wounds. For a moment he almost feels like he is as the waters begin to churn under his magical encouragement. He can lift objects with ease, however, all he has done before is small in comparison to this desperate attempt.

The river begins to flow more rapidly and then small waves begin to kick along the shoreline. Water sprays the Fire Giants and causes a sizzling sound to singe through the air, rising as high as the clash of iron, as they are pushed back by their assailants. Loki remembers a time when he had been able to lift up a water pitcher from behind a closed door and have it pour over Thor in the middle of the night as a mischievous prank. It is no mischief Loki is trying to pull right now, it is turning the tides of battle by quite literally turning the tides of the one thing that can diminish the Fire Giants.

The river runs faster as it begins to lap higher and higher, rising into the air like a mighty wall, a liquefied fortress that will keep the Fire Giants in place. Thor presses the warriors further on, urging them to use the last of their strength to push the Fire Giants towards the wall of water. Giants cry out as one is sucked into the rushing waves of the water wall and Loki's eyes grow wide with fear. The Fire Giants push back all the further, their feet squelching into the earth with such steadfastness that the mud becomes clay beneath their burning skin. Though Thor urges and Loki raises the wall of water higher still, the Fire Giants press back with a new found force that could very well break them.

Loki is running out of energy. The imaginary sun he created is beginning to fade, the copies he created vanish, and the wall of water is the only thing he knows he is capable of holding on to; though he knows not for how much longer. He grits his teeth, refusing to see defeat as the end of this battle. He cannot go home to be buried, or worse, in shame. He cannot stand the idea of his father looking down upon him, knowing that he was the one who failed to create the final blow that defeated an enemy he did not even think enough of to combat himself. He needs to prove his worth, so even as the light he created begins to fade away above them, he holds the wall of water strong.

There is an earth shattering crack from above and, in a blazing flash, a series of lightning bolts strike the Fire Giants. They cry out in anguish as another round of lightning strikes the ground around them and their persons again. Some stumble backwards, falling into the wall of water that Loki continues to maintain, despite his utter shock at the natural occurrence. Yet, he wonders as he looks upon Thor, just how natural is the presence of the lightning. There is a low rumble in the sky, then two more flashes of lightning that strike down upon the two remaining Fire Giants, and then there is nothing. There is just the sound of the water as Loki slowly lowers it once again to its natural flow.

Then, as abruptly as the appearance of the lightning, there is a mighty cheer from the warriors. Warm hands and congratulatory cries fall upon Thor and he beams with pride. Loki's hands lower entirely as he stops his control over the river and the fading sun above them entirely. Yet even in the darkness he can see that it is Thor who has become the hero of this battle, not him. For indeed it was Thor who summoned the lightning. Loki remembers himself quickly though, knowing full well that now is not the place to show resentment, and he swiftly strides over to his brother.

There had always been an inkling in Loki, one that knew Thor was capable of such an ability, but he did not know the extent of his brother's powers until now. It seems that even Thor did not understand the extent of his powers as the look upon his face is filled with wonder and bafflement. Despite the questions that irk in the forefront of Loki's mind, he merely offers his brother a warm smile as he says, “Congratulations, the battle is yours.”

“It is ours, brother,” Thor corrects with his face as bright as sunshine, even in the darkness as Loki's culminated sun burns out entirely.

Though Loki would like to say otherwise, knowing that the blackness in his heart is caused by the feeling of being completely unworthy, he instead remains silent as the others press close to Thor once more. Moving until he is at the outskirts of the gathered crowd, Loki gulps in a deep breath as the chilled night air washes his lungs. He shivers slightly as his own sweat and the blood of others begins to cool on his skin. He tastes a fierce metal tang in his mouth and swiftly he spits out the blood that lingers there, knowing full well that only part of it is his own. Looking down at his own glob of blood, Loki then glances at the carnage around him.

The bodies of a hundred Fire Giants lie around those who are celebrating. They untangle themselves from the carnage, picking their way through mangled corpses and shake away the blood that stains their boots as they make their way back towards their camp for a long deserved rest. Loki remains though, his eyes still lingering on the destruction. He cannot celebrate, he cannot even smile at the victory. It was supposed to be his, this is all he can think as he sees the last kindling of the Fire Giants extinguish with a hiss.

Complete and total annihilation, that is what lies before Loki. Cheers and celebration, that is what lies behind him. For a moment he is torn, for his heart feels as wretched and decayed as the bodies of the Fire Giants. This was meant to be his shinning moment, his victory that would prove to his father that he is a worthy son, a good soldier, even a worthy king. Loki looks behind him and glares at Thor. Such ambitions have been taken away from him. Yet, as his feet begin to move him towards the celebrations that his smile falsely curls upward to reflect, he is already thinking of what he can do next to achieve his goal.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

  
While Vanaheim was sweet in greeting, its parting, though filled with the same sweet smelling meadows and gentle winds that stir tall trees, was still one that left a bitter taste in Loki's mouth. Yet, as he strides through the Hall of Asgard, he knows that he does not desire to be here either. More than anything Loki would like to escape to one of the realms he has been able to project himself to. Perhaps to Alfheim where he can wander through the forests of all white trees that glow brightly in the darkness, or perhaps to the desolate openness of Svartalfheim where the wind tears at his hair.

Anywhere but here, Loki thinks as he takes another step towards his father, trailing closely behind Thor and Hogun. The assembly in the hall cheers loudly for their returned warriors who have shown bravery and victory against such a mighty enemy. Fools, Loki scoffs internally, they know not what could have happened, the easy victory that could have been had if they had agreed to follow his initial strategy. Yet through stumbling and ill preparation they were still victorious, for that at least Loki is grateful. Though he is not grateful that the honors will surely be given to Thor for striking the finalizing and devastating blow.

“Thor, my son,” Odin greets as he rises from his throne, his hand clenching around Gungnir to ease himself upward.

Swiftly Thor announces loudly, “Father, I bring you tidings of victory against the Fire Giants and of peace in Vanaheim.”

“Sir,” Hogun says as well, his gravely voice echoing alongside Thor's, “my people are indebted to your son for the victory he brought us and the peace he has instilled.”

Son. Singular. Loki only looks down at the ground as his jaw tightens in aggravation. He holds is place beside these two men though, knowing full well that he has every right to be alongside them even though he does not speak as such like they do. Instead he listens as Thor begins to tell the tale of their battle with more flare and exaggeration than is surely necessary. Yet Hogun does not raise a voice against Thor's rendition, merely maintains his neutral face and nods every so often to a particular truth.

For a brief moment Loki looks around at the hall, at the enamored faces of all those entranced by Thor's tale. One day, Loki promises himself, I will have everyone entranced in such a way by what I have to say and it will be something more meaningful than a small battle on a distant realm.

Yet it seems that Odin does not think such a battle was small, when he once thought it would be, as he says, “First victories are the greatest of victories. It proves a warriors worth and weighs the measure of a king's heart. You summoned the power of lightning to aid in your victory, Thor, now may your strength and powers be eternal as you wield Mjolnir.”

Loki cannot help but have his mouth hang open in shock for a single breath before he quickly finds himself again and shuts it. The mighty hammer that he tried so many years ago to lift, to prove his own worth against, is brought forth by Odin with ease. While Loki carries shock in his face, Thor carries pure heroism as he steps towards their father and kneels. He bows his head slightly before he rises up and reaches for Mjolnir. For the briefest of moments Loki hopes that Thor, despite this victory, will be unable to lift the hammer. Yet his heart sinks as his brother wraps his hands around the handle and lifts Mjolnir up as if it weighs nothing at all.

Run, Loki thinks, run away and never return for you cannot come back from this moment. Mjolnir is Thor's and will never be his now. Unless, by the Norns, Thor becomes unworthy and Mjolnir is stripped away from him. Yet, Loki believes, such a day will never come. He cannot foresee the future, but he is sure that there are more victories to come for Thor. Indeed, it seems that the others in the hall agree with Loki's silent thoughts as they cheer Thor on while he lifts Mjolnir high above him, for all to see his achievement.

For a moment Loki has a brief glimmer of hope as Odin raises his arm for silence. His powerful voice echoes through the hall once more and Loki's pulse quickens in anticipation. He may not have Mjolnir but surely he will receive something for his efforts in this battle. Holding his breath, he listens as his father says, “A feast will be served in honor of the victory in Vanaheim.”

More cheers erupt as Thor's hand comes down upon Loki's shoulder in silent greeting, and what he surely assumes is shared elation, before he moves on. Loki feels hollow inside though, what is left of his insides ringing to the subtle vibration of Thor's hand upon him. Nothing, he is to have nothing. Thor receives Mjolnir, the one thing he has coveted for years and the one thing he knows he will be worthy of someday, yet in a single instant it is taken away from him.

Just as in the battlefield, as the crowd disperses Loki remains. He stares up at his father's throne, at the gilded monstrosity that seems to take up the entire back half of the Hall of Asgard, and wonders if those who believe they are worthy to wield Mjolnir actually are or if it is just a trick. Only a trick can be combated with a trick though, mischief with mischief, an eye for an eye. Therefore Loki begins to think that a trick is exactly what he needs to prove his worth.

 


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**  
** Red. Brighter than the blood that surely still stains the meadow in Vanaheim. Yet also darker than the shade Loki's face can become when his rage sets in. It is too ostentatious of a color, Loki reflects as he watches Thor nod his head at his own reflection while he takes in his new cape. The fiery red catches the light and Loki wonders if indeed his rage will reflect the color before him today. 

Calm, cool, collective. This is what Loki must be, he knows he must not let onto the rage that still burns deep within him after the battle in Vanaheim and the gifting of Mjolnir to Thor. In the end, loosing Mjolnir to Thor is not his fault, Loki knows this full well, and for that he still loves his brother completely. His rage however, even as it merely kindles beneath the surface, is designated for the man who gifted the mighty hammer. Without a doubt, Loki holds no love for his father right now, even as he insisted that both he and Thor be outfitted with proper armor today for the future battles they will see together.

It is a cool and calm green that adorns Loki's shoulders as he looks towards his own reflection in the same mirror. The day after coming home, after a mighty feast was held in their honor, Odin gave orders for Thor and Loki to see the royal armorer in order to be outfitted. While Thor had taken many of the suggestions the armorer had offered him, Loki had insisted on bringing forth his own designs. He is pleased that his instructions were followed as he admires his designs that now grace his lithe body.

Strips of leather hug his torso, cascading down to that which hangs long over his thighs. It is only slightly covered by the gold breastplate that rises across his chest like Yggdrasil, the tree of life. Leather, adorned by flanks of protective gold plating, cling to his legs and only stop at his tall boots. The gold that bows around his neck glimmers slightly as he moves about, taking in as many angles as he can. Gingerly he reaches a hand up to his left shoulder, just where his green cape begins to cascade forth, and then onto the right, as if making sure the garment is not going to fall off. He knew he wanted green, a sharp contrast to Thor's red, and green is what he received. Everlasting, eternal, he reminds himself as the flicker of Thor's red flashes in the corner of his eye again.

His brother was trained to bring bloodshed in the name of peace, he was trained to bring about peace through the promise of rebirth in the manner of words. Though Loki is still loath to the fact that even in this, even with simple colors, he and Thor are separate, there is also a part of him that likes that he has his own individual color. It is his and his alone, no one else is adorned with green, and a small smile comes to Loki's face as he watches it catch the light just as much as the red. War will always be associated with Thor now, he has made his choice in this, but Loki deeply hopes that his green will soon be associated with the prospect of eternal steadfastness. His smile turns into a smirk as he thinks, even if his eternal steadfastness is gained through deception and some mischief.

“Your helmets,” the armorer says with pride as he brings forth the newly crafted armor. 

Before Thor even reaches for his own silver one that is simple and adorned with two flanking wings, he cocks his head towards Loki's helmet. Bafflement is clearly in his voice as he asks, “Is this your subtle way of telling me to stop calling you a Bilgesnipe all the time?”

Gingerly Loki takes his golden helmet into his hands, the two striking horns projecting from the crown of the helmet and curving up into an arching crescent above. With an arched eyebrow he looks towards his brother and shakes his head as he answers, “No, the horns are merely a design I desired.”

“By the Norns, why?”

“I could ask the same about your wings.” Loki places his helmet upon his head, relishing in how well it fits. “Are you planning on flying away soon?”

“Mjolnir does give me the ability to fly, so yes, perhaps I do intend on it.”

Though Thor is unaware of the heaviness his words cause Loki to feel in his heart, it does not show on Loki's face. Instead Loki flashes him a smile and retorts with ease, “Last time I saw you attempt to fly you fell into the water.”

Thor ruffles a bit, just like the wings that adorn the helmet he now places upon his head, as he indeed remembers the moment he had first attempted to fly with the help of Mjolnir. Gruffly he mumbles, “Your eyes are as good as Heimdall's.”

Loki merely bows his head and changes the mood with his twist of words. “Your flight needs work, but your might is already as great as Father's when you wield Mjolnir.”

At this Thor radiantly beams towards his brother, the silver and red of his new armor now matching in brightness to his fair face. The may fight, they may banter with their jests to no end, but both know that when all is said and done, they are still left with who they are: brothers.

For this Loki's tone is light as he says, “Do you remember when we were very small and Mother took us to Alfheim for the first time?”

Thor looks down at his boot clad feet for a moment before nodding and responds hesitantly, “Vaguely, I remember how everything was white and glowing in sunlight. I remember nothing else beyond this though, the reason for our going or how long we stayed.”

“I remember not such details either.” Loki takes a step towards Thor, facing him entirely, their glittering reflections forgotten for a moment. “What I do remember though is I couldn't sleep the first night. I know you are capable of sleeping anywhere, but I could not for the life of me find ease in the palace we were in. So I sneaked out.”

“As you are prone to do here, brother.”

Loki laughs lightly and nods his head in agreement, knowing full well that he can hardly disagree with such a statement. At least, Loki thinks to himself, his brother does not inquire as to where he goes when he sneaks off anymore, not as he once did. Lightness remains on Loki's tongue as he continues his story, “I walked without seeing anyone, strange I know given where we were, but I did not think anything of it at the time. What I did find startling was that I soon heard a stream. I thought I had wandered too far, that I had left the palace we were in and I began to panic, thinking I would not find my way back to bed. Instead what I found was a small forest hidden away in the depths of the palace. It sprung forth as if from nowhere, one moment I was walking along an empty hallway and the next I was stepping through a wide entrance that proved to be a gateway to a mass of trees.

“There was a stream there as well, my ears had not deceived me as I walked through the shinning white woods and found that as well. It was not blue as our waters are, but instead it was a gold of sorts, yes, a gold that shimmered with the reflection of the trees on its surface. I dared not drink from it, even though I was thirsty, for even though we did some stupid acts when we were children, drinking from a questionable stream in the middle of that forest was not going to be one of mine.” 

At this Thor laughs lightly, nodding his head in understanding, before Loki continues to weave his tale. “So I instead sat there a time, knowing full well that even if I did manage to make it back to my bed, after somehow retracing the steps I did not know how I made, I would still not find sleep. Therefore I listened to the birds that chirped lightly in the trees and felt the wind shift the leaves. Then, just as I was thinking I really ought to leave before Mother found me and punished me in the subtle, but effective way she only knows how to do, something approached the stream. It was a deer, no, not a deer, it looked like a deer but it was far larger than any I have seen in any other realm. Both you and I in our current state could have ridden upon its back with ease and have space to spare. So when I saw it then, surely being about half the height I am now, the creature was enormous in my eyes. I have not seen a creature like it sense, for I believe it only resides in that hidden forest. While we have been back to Alfheim since that first trip, I have not yet been able to find that forest again. Therefore I hold on to what I saw that night, knowing full well that it could have been a dream. I do not know, brother, what I do know is that I indeed witnessed something profoundly magical that night.

“Not only was this deer enormous in body, but the antlers that adorned his head were just as majestic. They were not like the splinters of a tree branch, like those of other deer. Instead they were exactly like this.” Loki points towards his helmet, glancing at it in the mirror for a moment to take in the two smooth arches that grace his head. “It was with his horns that the deer then bowed his head towards that golden river and when bone met water, the stream stilled. Not even the birds chirped in the trees anymore, nor was I entranced by the babbling that had led me to that very spot. I believe I even held my breath in that moment, not daring to let my exhale taint the moment. For indeed, it was only a moment before the river began to run once again, though it was not longer gold. Instead it ran blue, just as every stream we have cupped our hands into and greedily drank from looked.

“That is exactly what the deer then did, he drank from that stream and though I would have as well, for my thirst was great, I remained still lest my movement caused him to run away. Once he had had his fill though, once he raised his great horned head skyward, he merely looked at me unblinking for a time. I slowly had to let my breath out, for it was killing me to hold it any further, and it was with that small breath that the deer then sniffed the air and turned to dart away. With his presence gone the stream gradually ran gold once more and though I waited, perhaps longer than I should have, the deer did not return. I'm not sure how I made it back to my room that night, all I know is I woke up in my bed and Mother was telling me we had to get ready.”

Loki takes a small breath, letting the stillness in the wake of his voice wash over them for a moment. He is about to add something more when Thor snickers slightly. Loki's eyes dart daggers towards his brother as he harshly asks, “Is something amusing?”

“You created your armor to be like a cow you saw drinking from a river,” Thor responds with little question in his tone, just plain and simple jest. 

“By the Norns.” Loki fumes as he turns away from Thor to look at his reflection once again. “This is why I don't tell you anything anymore. Where's Fandral? At least he always appreciates the grace of my words.”

“He is entranced by whatever tongue can move fast enough to give him pleasure.”

Anger dissipates from Loki as he swiftly quips, “In more than one way.”

At this Thor lets out a mighty laugh and Loki cannot help but chuckle as well, the tense air between them lessening as all foolery is now placed upon Fandral. Yet their laughter diminishes entirely as Sif steps into the room, her head held up high and a demure smile dancing across her lips. Although, the two brothers are unsure if her smile is because of her joy to see them or simply because she has managed to silence them with her new appearance alone. Sif, would like to think it is the latter despite her steadfastness towards finding little care in what others think of her.

Today though, she would like an opinion as she steps forth in her own armor. Glancing between Loki and Thor, as they continue to remain silent in awe, Sif finally breaks and pleads, “Well, do either of you have thoughts that can be put into words?”

Thor is the first to recover as he responds warmly, “Words cannot do you justice.”

Though Sif beams towards Thor she still tilts her head towards Loki as well, asking, “And you, Silvertongue, what do you have to say?”

Loki's affections towards Sif have undoubtedly fluctuated over the years, ebbing and flowing between infatuation to a sisterly protection and everything in between at a constant rate. As he looks upon her now though, he feels a mixture he has not experienced before. It is pride and longing that flows through Loki now as he is stunned into silence at the mere sight of her splendor. Slowly he reaches up and takes off his helmet so that he might look upon her better.

Her long black tresses hang loose around her shoulders, though normally she ties them back for convenience in battle. For her armor shines as if she is more than ready to see battle. The polished silver metal of her cuirass hugs her torso and flares against her curves. The cuirass she wore before, in training and in Vanaheim, was a man's cuirass. Though Loki, and everyone in Asgard for that matter, know that women learn to fight, few have ever learned to fight to such an extent as Sif has demanded to since she was a little girl. For this reason alone there has been few armor that has properly fit her, let alone armor made specifically for her.

Now though, Sif self-consciously runs a hand along the form-fitting cuirass, her eyes darting towards the ground for a moment as Loki merely opens his mouth. He is desperate to find the proper words and affectionately he says, “You finally appear the way you should always look when preparing for battle, my Lady.”

“My Lady?” Sif instantly questions with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. “No one has called me that since I was little.”

“I thought you would object to being called a goddess,” Loki responds, his silvertongue indeed working now, “though you look the part as well.”

Sif smirks now and takes a step closer to Loki. Before either can say anything more though, Volstagg appears behind Sif and looks at the lot of them with confusion, asking, “What are you all standing around for? Or do you wish for your armor to remain shinny instead of breaking it in like you should be doing right now?”

“We come presently,” Thor responds as he strides over to Volstagg. He hangs an arm across their weapon's trainer's shoulder and shakes his head in disbelief. “You must allow us some fun though, this is a momentous day to have our own armor.”

“Indeed and that is why I intend to have us celebrate tonight.” Volstagg then drops his voice down and precariously mutters, “I mean properly, in a tavern, away from the eyes of others holding us back.”

Thor looks back towards Sif and Loki who have remained rooted in their spots. He thinks nothing of it as he turns back to Volstagg and says, “Then let us drink together as friends tonight, for you are a great deal of that and more. Though, we should seek out Fandral and have him join us as well.”

“Who do you think I saw before I sought you lot out?” Volstagg jokes rhetorically. “I saw Fandral starting his practices without any of you and I knew something had to be wrong for you three to be late and him on time.”

Thor laughs heartily as he gives Volstagg's shoulders another slap of companionship before the older warrior leads the other away. Once more the crisp red of Thor's cape flashes in Loki's eyes and he looks away. Instead his eyes rest upon a deep, rusted crimson, one that is a red richer and less harsh than that adorning Thor. It subtly peaks out from the edges of Sif's cuirass and for a moment Loki almost reaches out to feel the strips of material between his fingers.

Fingers curl inward though, at least for now, as Sif says with ease, “Thor has become rather full of himself since Vanaheim it seems. I will tell you a secret though, he only chose to have wings on his helmet because Odin does as well. There was no other reason other than to emulate the kingship that will soon be upon his head.”

Loki looks up at Sif with some speculation as he asks simply, “Honestly?”

“I know for sure as he has no story like the one you told of the design for your own armor.”

Instantly Loki fumbles with the helmet he has been clutching under his arm. He makes the appearance that it seems awkward and cumbersome now that he knows Sif heard his completely fabricated story. Though he does not wish for her to know his ruse, for in truth he wants no one to know why he chose the horns, he therefore keeps to his facade and quickly stammers, “I didn't know...”

“My apologies for listening in.”

“No, it's fine, it's just...”

Sif smiles warmly and gently reaches up a hand to rest upon Loki's arm to calm his nerves. Little does she know that such a gesture only enhances his nerves ever more. With a light laugh in her tone she says, “Trust me, Loki, you will only see Thor in that helmet during ceremonies. He will not wear it any other time, even though it was made for battle.”

Loki cannot help but nod along to the correct nature of her statement. He then gives voice to a further thought, saying humorously, “I'm rather sure his head is dense enough that it makes for a fine enough helmet.”

Sif's face lights up into a smile as she laughs at the rather truthful statement. There is a bounce to her step as she begins to walk away. “Come on, we can't miss out on all the fun.”

“Of course not, Lady Sif.”

There is a gentle hum from Sif as she walks beside Loki towards the training grounds. There is slight contemplation on her face, laced with a withheld pleasure, before she responds, “I do not think I mind such a title.”

“Well, I for one, like it more than the dreadful one you call me.”

“What? Silvertongue?” Loki nods as she guesses correctly. “I rather like it.”

“It feels more like a taunt than a friendly name.”

“You always know how to use your words just right. What name would you rather have?”

Loki does not respond instantly, instead he thinks for a moment of all the names he would rather have than the one he has been given. Philosopher, student, magician, warrior, trickster, tactician, nobleman, prince, king. Though he may be these things and has the potential to be the others, Loki does not voice these desires, even to the trusted Sif.

Instead he merely smiles as they step out into the warm afternoon sunlight, choosing to ignore her question entirely. The voices rising above the din of clashing arms would dull any answer he would find suitable to give her anyway. With a smirk Loki nods towards Thor's already discarded helmet, resting easily on the ground next to where he is sparing with Volstagg, and Sif cannot help but snicker slightly at the sight. Though she does not flaunt when she is correct, she still likes to bask in it when the circumstances arise.

It seems like more than just his helmet has been shed though as Thor wields Mjolnir with bare arms, no longer adorned by the scale armor that was once there. Yet Loki does not have to question what has happened in their brief absence as Thor loudly states, “Hold for a moment, I want to see if I can call it back.”

Loki cannot help but flinch slightly as thunder instantly rolls across the sky and a bolt of lightening shoots down to meet Mjolnir as Thor stretches his arm upward. Silver armored platting begins to ripple across his bare arms, covering them protectively once more, just as they had moments ago when the brothers had first taken in their new armor. With a loud, jovial hoot, Thor flips Mjolnir lightly in his hands and looks down with pride at his assembled armor intact once again.

There is a low whistle beside Loki and he merely shifts his eyes over to Fandral as his fair faced friend leans against him. Yet both turn to look over their shoulders as a familiar, though not entirely welcoming voice says behind them, “Such a gift will be useful on the battlefield.”

Hogun steps towards Thor and nods at his armor as he begins to privately converse with him. As Volstagg leans his ax against the weapons rack, Loki inquires, “What is he still doing here?”

“Who? Hogun?” Volstagg answers in question before he shrugs his mighty shoulders. “He told me he enjoyed fighting alongside us and wishes to remain a while longer, wants to train with us.”

“Surely he wishes to train with you, Volstagg,” Sif says kindly as she picks up her usual sword and begins to balance it in her hands. “He is far too experienced to want to train with us.”

“I was barely there in Vanaheim,” Volstagg responds with a smile to show he desired such a thing. “You four were the ones in charge, not I, in that battle. I believe my time for teaching is coming to an end with the likes of you all.”

“Teaching yes,” Fandral responds firmly, “companionship, no.”

“No, no, no,” Loki mumbles as he realizes where Fandral's mind is already surely going. “I'm not going to be a part of some merry band of men that you wish us to be, Fandral.”

Pseudo-shock forms across Fandral's face as he pulls away from Loki and says, “Well, if you are so against it then you do not get to join.”

“Join? Must I pass an initiation as well?”

Fandral flashes him a roguish smile. “Try to out drink Volstagg tonight and I'll see if you can be a part of our band.”

“What?” Volstagg questions upon hearing his name mentioned.

Instantly Fandral slides over to him and says, “Nothing, nothing at all. Just, how much mead can you drink in a single night?”

As Volstagg begins to boast of his ability to fill his gut that has grown exponentially in the years since he married and started having children, Fandral flashes Loki another smile and walks away with the man who has indeed become less of a teacher and more of a friend.

Sensing her presence beside him, Loki's gaze slides towards Sif as he asks, “What are your thoughts on these matters?”

“I think I will have to get used to the stench of even more men if we are to include Volstagg and Hogun in our company.”

Sif smiles over at Loki and he cannot help but chuckle lightly. He turns towards the open courtyard of the training grounds and Sif gradually follows behind him. “What do you say to seeing how well your new armor works?”

“I say yours will see a dent long before mine will,” Sif retorts as she swiftly takes up a fighting stance, sword at the ready.

 


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**  
** Loki wakes with a start, his breath coming in short gasps and his heart rapidly beating. Long fingers clutch at the sweat soaked blankets beneath him as he forces himself to take a deep breath in before slowly letting it out. The smell of smoke tickles his nose even though no braziers burn in his room this early in the morning. For this he shivers, despite himself, as the sweat begins to cool on his skin. 

It has been a while since he faced the Fire Giants in battle, yet it does not seem like it has been long enough, even with other battles fought as well since then. The first moment of failure was with the Fire Giants in Vanaheim, at least in his eyes, and that is why it continues to haunt Loki. It seeps into his sleeping mind time and again. He thought he was doing better, he has not had a nightmare in a few weeks, and yet here is proof that it is not so. Perhaps the nightmares never leave, Loki thinks as he tosses the blankets aside and rises from his bed. The early morning sun is just beginning to dance across the floor as he pads, barefooted, towards the balcony. 

Loki begins to entwine his fingers, absently picking at scabs that do not exist, as he looks out over the quiet city. Vanaheim was a victory, yet he has never felt it to be such. He, alongside Thor, Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg, saw victory in Nornheim as he veiled his fellow warriors in smoke to help with their escape. Yet, it is still Thor who is credited for fighting through nearly a hundred warriors during that battle, not Loki for his cunning. The same happened in Nidavellir when there was a war between the Rock Trolls and the Dwarves. Though Loki was the one who negotiated peace in the end, it is still Thor who has songs sung of his valor in obliterating a swarm of Rock Trolls. 

There is a sharp intake of breath from Loki as his wandering and twisting fingers find an old cut upon the side of his hand. He does not even look at the small wound, for the pain it causes is nothing compared to the hurt that lurks in his heart and mind. He has done everything to continue to find favor with his father, he has negotiated peace, saved his friends, and assisted in the ruling of the Nine Realms. And yet. Well, Loki is beginning to think that it is all never going to be enough. 

Lamenting never did anyone any good either, Loki reflects as he turns back in towards his room. Gradually, as the world around him begins to now wake, he works his way into his familiar black, gold, and green attire. He forgoes the metal armor for now, knowing very well that he can summon it quickly if he needs it. He doubts he will need it today, though he could do well with a distraction. As he turns to leave his room, Loki looks down at his hand once more. The cut there was deeper when he first received it. Once more he was in the cave that is hidden as the Bifrost is not but contains the same teleportation qualities. Loki's frustration had gotten the better of him again and in retaliation the veil sent his magic spiraling back at him, causing him to break his fall with his hand against the jagged rocky surface of the cave. 

Indeed, he needs a distraction from that blasted cave, from battles fought alongside Thor where he receives little or no credit for his efforts and victories, from life in general. Yet, Loki wonders with a slight sigh, can such a thing happen? He shakes his head, silently answering his own question as he leaves his room and wanders towards the small hall his family always gathers in to break their morning meal together. 

The smell of warm bread is the first thing that reaches Loki's nose, causing him to forget the lingering sense of smoke that his nightmare had brought forth. With a slight smile he sinks down into his usual seat, barely lifting his eyes to his mother who already sits at the table as well, before he reaches out for a small roll from the basket of the fresh bakery. His hands tingle at the warmth, filling the cold void he has felt ripple across his skin lately, and in complete bliss he takes a bite. 

Loki is halfway through chewing the delightful morsel when he finally looks around at his surroundings. All is not familiar this morning. Though his mother sits beside him, calm complacency lining her face as she places a berry in her mouth, there is another figure that sits across from the both of them who is entirely new. His face is thin, much like Loki's, though his hair is not as dark, instead shinning with a coppery hue. The smile upon his face is genuine though, enough of a silent greeting as he continues to chew his food. Even if his mouth was unhindered he would still find it hard to introduce himself. It is his shyness that causes him to look down at his plate again as Loki stares him down with sharp green eyes. 

Loki swallows the bread that no longer seems as sweet as it was before and curtly he asks the stranger, “Who are you?”

“Loki, honestly,” Frigga responds in exasperation, “try to not be so rude.”

“I'm sorry,” the stranger stutters slightly, his brown eyes darting between Loki and Frigga. “I thought someone would have told you of my arrival. I'm Haldor.”

Loki's gaze falls towards his mother, even as he addresses Haldor, “No, I was not told of your imminent arrival. The apology should be mine.”

“I remember telling you of Haldor,” Frigga says in bafflement, her face scrunching in an attempt to remember the instance. “I know I told at least one of you.”

“Then surely you told Thor and believed it to be enough.”

“Such is the way with siblings,” Haldor tries to joke, but it dies on his lips upon seeing Loki's serious expression. He looks down at his food once more, picking at it rather than eating it. 

Frigga however tries to lighten the mood, lightly saying to Loki, “Indeed, I remember now, I told Thor but I failed to tell you as well. It matters not now, what matters is Haldor is here.”

“And who exactly is Haldor?”

Haldor perks up once again, his narrow shoulders rising slightly as he straightens. Though he sits, Loki can already tell that he will stand as tall as Thor does. At least he is not as bull headed as Thor is, Loki thinks to himself, as Haldor answers, “I'm from Asgard, but I have been studying in Vanaheim and Alfheim these past few years.”

“Studying what, might I ask?” Loki inquires, the tension in his voice easing as Haldor's warm tone soothes him as greatly as the bread in his hand now. 

Haldor's face lights up slightly at the prospect of sharing with the once speculative Loki. “A number of things, the workings of magic and science in correlation with healing primarily.”

“Healing?”

“Yes, I have found that while our healing knowledge on Asgard is above those in other realms, it is still behind in comparison to others. We Asgardians hardly need healing most of the time, our strength, stamina, and vigor often has little need of medicine. Unless you are a warrior of course, or someone of the like who puts yourself in constant danger. For those who fight for Asgard, that is who I want to bring new healing knowledge to and that is what I have been studying particularly in Alfheim. The magic that comes from Vanaheim has helped as well and I desire to bridge these two realms of knowledge and bring them completely to Asgard to assist wounded warriors. To know what is wrong with a warrior is all well and good, but to know how to heal them is quite another. And...and I realize I have perhaps divulged too much. Such dense conversation is perhaps better for dinner, rather than light breakfast conversation.”

Loki smiles, he cannot help it as is spreads broadly across his face. He waves his hand, swatting away Haldor's concerns as he responds, “Nonsense. Have you met Thor yet?”

“No, but I have heard of his bravery and strength in battle.”

“Then you know enough to realize that my mother is the only one who provides me with intellectual conversation around here, and Mother, I mean no offense, but it is nice to have someone other than yourself to talk to.”

Frigga merely smiles, her thin lips making her eyes crinkle slightly, as she says, “I take no offense, so long as you take none towards me for leaving you two now.”

“Not at all,” Loki mumbles, barely glancing her way as Frigga rises and exits the room before he turns his attention completely on Haldor. Though there is still a flicker of shyness from him, Loki finds that he likes Haldor all the more for it. Therefore he asks him kindly, “What motivated you to study this, are you a warrior yourself?”

“Yes, but I have hardly seen battle. Not like you and your brother have...” Haldor barely finishes his thought before Loki's shoulders tense at the sound of his brother coming in behind him. 

“Haldor!” Thor greets with a mighty roar that always makes Loki wonder if his brother is capable of keeping his voice at a polite volume. 

Hearing this greeting from Thor causes Loki to turn and ask his brother, “You know him?”

“Of course I do,” Thor responds as he sits down beside his brother and begins to pile his plate with food. “Fandral introduced us the last time he was in Asgard. Stopping here before you went to Midgard right, Haldor?”

Haldor flushes slightly and nods. “Correct.”

“Why would you possibly want to go to Midgard?” Loki asks not harshly, but with genuine curiosity. 

Before Haldor can answer though, Thor interrupts with his own simple question, “How long will you be staying in Asgard this time?”

“Longer than last time,” Haldor responds, switching so he can respond to Thor instead of Loki. Though his mouth is open to continue responding to Loki as well, he is stopped by Thor once again.

“Wonderful, we shall have to introduce you to the others in our company.”

Thor begins to shovel his meal into his wide trap, silencing him for at least a moment, giving Loki a moment to speak. “Indeed, we will have to reacquaint you with Asgard.”

“It has been a few centuries since I was here,” Haldor responds with an innocent shrug. “Perhaps a walk through the city...”

“Nonsense,” Thor says through a mouthful of food. Swallowing allows for more decorum as he continues, “We shall show you a truly good time.”

Though it looks like Haldor would like to say otherwise, as his glance towards Loki is half-hearted, he instead responds, “That sounds wonderful.”

Thor's smile radiates towards Haldor. “Then let us eat so our enjoyment can come all the sooner.”

Loki leans back slightly in his chair, his eyes begging to roll though he keeps them contained as he takes another bite of the now cool bread in his hands as Thor and Haldor continue to converse through breakfast. Yet he cannot help but silently gaze upon Haldor as they do this, for it has been some time since someone has struck such an interest in Loki. Already a small fluttering begins to pool in the pit of his stomach as he catches Haldor's gaze for a moment. He holds it until Haldor looks away once more with a small blush upon his cheeks. 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

There is a smile on Sif's face that Loki has never seen before. He has seen her smile at their friends, at himself, before leaving for an adventurous battle, but he has never seen her smile like this before. Curiously he watches her more closely than he usually does and his silent questioning does not take long to find an answer. All it takes is for him to follow her gaze and see it falling upon Haldor as he tells a story in the bright corner of the tavern they now relax in. 

Already Haldor has stayed in Asgard longer than he said he would as months have passed since his arrival. Their group, Lady Sif and the Warrior's Three as they have eloquently started calling themselves, welcomed Haldor readily and he has not been far from the six of them this entire time. Though he has family in Asgard, he has been given a fine room in the palace and each morning, just like the first, he sits down to breakfast with Loki and Thor before they begin their day. More often than not though, they all end their day here, raising a glass to their day of training or their day of warfare, whatever the case might be. 

Nothing has really changed since the appearance of Haldor, nothing but Sif's smile. It radiates brighter than the torchlight that illuminates the tavern, it is louder than the other guests beside them, and it is more unnerving than anything Loki has experienced. Realizing that he has been staring at Sif, Loki quickly looks down at the drink in his hand. He is still on his first cup of mead, while the others are already well past, yet he does not feel that the drink will help as he continues to swirl it around instead of bringing it to his lips. 

There is a burning rage in his heart over Sif's smile, a smile that he has never had directed his way, that eats away at him, much to his own self-loathing. Without a doubt he hates that he is jealous, he does not wish to stoop himself to such levels, not when he already does it on too many occasions with Thor. He already has to fight to be even equal to his brother, now he wonders if he will have to do the same with Haldor to gain the smile he wishes Sif would direct at him. 

Loki finds himself shaking his head slightly as he stares into his cup, his reflection blurred and hazy in the liquid, and he wonders why he even desires to have Sif smile at him in such a way. It is not as if she is the only person in Asgard who he would gladly have affections for and be happy for their own in return. The Norns know how many times Fandral has become a viable temptation. Yet Loki desires more, he has always desired more, both with someone and with himself. 

Green eyes focus again as Loki hears his name and realizes that he has not been paying attention to the conversation at hand. Despite this he smirks slightly and responds, “That's right.”

Their group lets out a cheer and Loki instantly goes back to looking down in his cup, internally baffled that even when he is not paying attention he is still easily capable of responding correctly. Such is the way with their simplicity and it is exactly that reason that he constantly finds himself wondering why Haldor continues to remain in their company. He is far more intelligent than those he raises a glass with now and the only rationale than he can come to is that he remains for Sif. For a smile from Sif is not the only thing he notices, for Loki observes a great deal in his silence, but it is also Haldor's smile he notices as well. It is not a smile that indicates he is enjoying the company around him, or the silly smile he gets when drinking too much, instead it is the same radiating smile that Sif gives him that he returns then to her. Loki saw their equal adoration weeks ago; he has not said anything and he does not think he will. After all they are free to love one another, yet knowing this still does not stop the pain that pinches at Loki's nerves. For at the end of it all, he is not sure who he wishes more to requite his adoration, Sif or Haldor. 

The conversation Haldor and Loki had that first morning soon became hours of conversation in libraries and during walks around the city. Entrancing and enticing debates about the magic they both have learned and all they wish to do with it lit a spark within Loki. He truly feels like he could never be disappointed in listening to Haldor speak, just as he is never disappointed in watching Sif fight on the battlefield. Yet, as it is clearly before him now, Loki cannot hold either of their gazes for they are only for each other. For that Loki purses his lips as he looks away from both of them. 

“I beg your forgiveness, my friends,” Loki says the moment there is a lull in their conversation, “but I must part ways with you.”

There are loud objections from the group, but Loki rises none the less and makes his way out of the crowded tavern. Moving away from the brightly lit streets Loki finds himself in the darker, quieter corners of Asgard. Yet he does not seek solitude upon leaving his friends, instead he has set his mind to a new purpose and he seeks out company once again. The streets become corridors of twists and turns yet Loki knows his way entirely. His mother insisted that he knows every corner of Asgard, knows all of his subjects, and knows the full extent of his future kingdom even if he is not to directly rule but instead advise beside Thor. Mentally Loki praises her for ingraining such lessons into him. 

Loki turns and faces a dark blue door, staring at it for a moment before he quickly knocks upon the solid wood. He knows it is the door he desires, his hesitation comes only in solidifying that what he intends to do is what he truly wants to do. It is, without a doubt it is, he had no need to hesitate. Impatience drives him to knock once again as the moments linger on and there is no answer on the other side. With the second knock though the door swings open. 

Cunning lips curve upward as Lorelei stands on the other side and asks sweetly, “Loki, what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need your help,” Loki responds confidently. 

“Come on in.” 

Lorelei moves aside as Loki steps inward. Her home is small, a single story dwelling with just a few sparsely adorned rooms. However, Loki knows that such a home is far larger and more comfortable than the prison cell she has called home before. She leads him into a small kitchen area and reaches an outstretched hand toward the table, indicating he should sit in one of the chairs. He obliges as she flits towards the hearth, putting a kettle over the fire to brew a strong herbal drink that already fills the room and Loki's nose. 

As she waits for the drink to simmer, Lorelei turns back to Loki and gets right to the point by asking, “Why do you call for my assistance?”

Loki folds his hands in front of him and places his elbows on the table. “You will think me ridiculous.”

Lorelei laughs lightly and shakes her head. “You have witnessed me doing a great many ridiculous things, Loki. Therefore, I would like to witness you doing one now.”

“I work hard to make sure no one sees the ridiculous things I do.”

“And that is why you need my help now? So that blame is not put upon your plan?”

Loki purses his lips, hating that he must admit a fault in admitting this to Lorelei, but he has no other choice. Therefore he answers, “I need your help because I need something done that I cannot do.”

Lorelei leans against the counter behind her and folds her arms over her chest. “Loki, my, my, I never thought the day would come when you willingly admitted that there is something you cannot do.”

“Do not prolong my misery.”

“Ah, but your misery is what has brought you here, has it not?”

“Do you watch me in adoration?” Loki tempts with a smirk. “Or do you simply have uncanny intuition?”

“Darling, even with my ability to tempt you with my words, I would not use them to gain you.”

“Your words sting, Lorelei.”

She shrugs her shoulders lightly as she goes to tend the hot kettle. “It is only because I know you do not have affections for me, your eyes fall only on Sif.”

“Are you sure your powers are only to manipulate the minds and hearts of men?”

“Only power I have ever needed,” Lorelei responds with a smile as she hands Loki a steaming mug. He does not drink it, merely wraps his hands around the warm concoction. He only trusts Lorelei so much after all and he wonders how potent her potions are, even in the guise of a simple drink. 

Lorelei pulls a strand of golden red hair behind her ear as she sits down across from Loki. His tone turns more grave as he asks, “Do you know who Haldor is?”

“I do not know him, but I know of him. He has been in your company these past weeks, has he not?”

“He has and I have enjoyed his company.”

“And yet...”

“And yet he has eyes for Sif.”

“And she for him?” Loki nods his assent. “Then why disturb love?”

At this Loki looks down at the mug in his hands and he realizes not much has changed in the last hour as he still finds himself looking down at a drink that does not quench his thirst. Realization dawns upon Lorelei though and she answers her own question, “Because you want them both, but neither will have you.”

“And such selfishness has brought me to your door.”

“It is not selfish to know what you want, or to seek out what you want. The only question is, what do you want me to do about it?”

Loki instantly looks up and meets her gaze with a fierce boldness. “I want you to do the one thing you know how to do, obviously.”

“Darling, I'm not going to risk seeing prison again just because you cannot find love.”

“You will not see prison again, you will have my protection this time.”

Lorelei scoffs slightly before she comments, “Your protection is hardly enough. To have Thor's or Odin's yes, but yours...”

“Is just as good as theirs as I am a prince of Asgard. You use your words as your weapons and you know I do as well. Trust me to keep you safe while you do this for me.”

For a moment Lorelei thinks, contemplating the task before her. Before she agrees though, she asks simply, “How do you want it to be done?”

“In whatever manner is best, I leave it to your discretion.”

“So long as I leave heartache in my wake?”

Loki smirks as he leans forward slightly. “Precisely.”

In turn Lorelei leans back in her chair and looks away from Loki for a moment. She does not have to contemplate for long though before she directly looks at him once more and says, “Alright, Loki Odinson, I will help you. But my assistance comes with a price.”

“Anything you want will be yours, Lorelei.”

She laughs lightly and smiles. “Be careful about saying that so freely, you have not yet heard what I want.”

“I am willing to pay the price.”

Lorelei takes a sip of her brewed drink, her long fingers wrapped easily around her mug, before she begins to detail exactly what she desires. Loki listens and agrees, only caring about how she will bring a shard of heartache to the two people who have caused pain to lurk in his heart as well. 

 


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**  
** “There is a changing in the wind,” Hogun says mysteriously as he stares not at the company around him, but at the flames crackling before him. 

Fandral is the first to hum slightly in confusion before he leans forward and asks, “What ever do you mean?”

Thor, Loki, Sif, and the Warrior's Three sit upon the couches and chairs splayed throughout the small room that holds a comforting fire in its center. The nights have started to become colder and Loki wraps the fur around his shoulders a little closer as his eyes narrow in speculation as well towards Hogun's words.

Yet Loki has an idea as to what Hogun means, even before he states as such, for indeed there is a change in the wind and it is not because winter will soon be upon them. Loki's thoughts are put to words as Hogun looks up at them and responds solemnly, “Warriors have been disappearing from training for weeks now and it is not desertion.”

At this Sif stands and walks away from the gathered group, her gaze falling towards the open window instead. Loki seems to be the only one who notices though as Thor adds, “We have yet to find any of them though, including Haldor.”

There is a sharp intake of breath from Sif, though once more Loki believes he is the only one who hears it as she remains with her back turned. Out of the corner of his eye though he can see Fandral shaking his head before he says, “It does not make any sense. Where would they be going? And I assume that Haldor is with them, for it is a single entity who has taken these men, for that I am sure.”

“There is a changing in the wind,” Hogun says again, with more emphasis this time, “it is just a matter of who is directing it.”

There is a lull of silence as the group contemplates, though Loki merely observes as he waits to push them all in one direction or the other. For it is he who has changed the wind, through his deal with Lorelei, yet such a thing cannot ever be known to them. To his surprise though, Sif turns back towards the group and says, “I believe I know who is doing this.”

“Pain is apparent in your voice, Sif,” Thor says with a great level of compassion. “Are you sure you know who is doing this or...”

“I know,” Sif says with resolution, cutting Thor off from asking if her heart or her mind is driving her to this conclusion. With an eyebrow raised slightly in interest, Loki listens intently as Sif continues. “There is only one person capable of ensnaring men, leading them away, such is the case here. It is Lorelei.”

“Lorelei?” Fandral questions, the name rolling across his tongue with unfamiliarity. “Who is she?”

“Perhaps you know her sister better,” Thor answers, entirely knowing who Sif speaks of, “the enchantress, Amora.”

“By the Norns,” Volstagg mutters under his breath. “I thought the both of them were in prison?”

“Amora still is,” Loki offers as he folds his hands in front of him. “Lorelei however did not cause as much damage as her sister on their last rampage and was subsequently released a short time ago.”

Fandral looks towards Sif and asks, “And you think Lorelei is causing trouble again?”

Sif nods her head. “She has the powers capable of being the one responsible, I just do not know her motivation.”

“She's evil,” Volstagg says with a shrug, “what other motivation does she need?”

At this comment Loki sits back slightly and feels the nods of agreement around him. His eyes glance towards Mjolnir as it rests on the floor just beside Thor and Loki wonders silently as to the nature of evil. Is he evil for giving Lorelei permission to ensnare the hearts of their bravest and finest warriors for her own cause in order to further his cause as well? No, he answers himself, he is merely cunning. He thinks further ahead than the lot sitting around him. They can only comprehend the situation at hand, they cannot fathom the six situations that can spring forth from the three different actions he can persuade them to take when confronting this so called problem.

With this in mind, Loki once again sits up and looks around at his companions. His voice is laced with innocence as he asks, “How was Lorelei captured last time? Surely that will help us now.”

“Both her and Amora were caught at the same time,” Sif responds and then her voice drops towards uncertainty, “by Odin.”

Though Hogun and Volstagg glance downward at this knowledge, Fandral still seems bright as he asks, “Well, then, how did Odin accomplish capturing both of them? If he can gain both then surely, together, we can all capture one.”

At this burst of enthusiasm, Thor readily nods his head and agrees, “She will not stand a chance against us brave warriors.”

“We have to find her first,” Loki interjects with reason. “We cannot even find the missing warriors and there is no guarantee that they are all together or even with her.”

“My friends,” Thor says resolutely, “I know where we must go.”

They all do not question their fearless leader on his meaning, instead they merely follow him through the palace with enthusiasm. However, Loki has an inclination as to what Thor has in mind and his suspicion is confirmed as they pass through familiar double doors. It was only a few hours ago that Loki was here, learning and practicing his magic with his mother. Now their company halts just beyond the barrier of her doors and Frigga looks up from the book she is reading with amazement as they traipse in.

Before she can question their presence though, Thor strides up to her with a smile and says, “Mother, we need your assistance.”

“Of course, my son,” Frigga responds with a smile. “What can I do?”

“You are capable of scrying for a person, to find their location, correct?”

“Yes.” Frigga twists her hands slightly in front of her as she further admits, “Though I have not done it in some time.”

A small pang of guilt racks through Loki at this. He could have helped rectify this; he knows his mother has such an ability but he has not yet asked her to show it to him, even when he has asked of her nearly everything else concerning her knowledge in magic. The truth of the matter is that Loki learned the art on his own, stumbled across it while learning to project himself to different realms, and he does not yet have the heart to tell his mother. Perhaps, he thinks, after this I will allow her to teach me, now that the subject has been brought up on this occasion.

“I'm sure it will not matter,” Thor responds affectionately. 

“Then whom do you seek?”

Thor glances back at Sif and she steps forward, for in his heart Thor knows that this battle will truly be commanded by Sif. Nodding her head towards Frigga, Sif then answers her question, “We seek Lorelei, the sorceress.”

Frigga's head reels back at this request and information, but she is quick to gather herself as she says, “Come then, my tools lie over here.”

While the others follow Frigga towards the back corner of her rooms that hold her books and her collection of herbs, Loki pauses behind them. He only has to close his eyes for a moment before he finds Lorelei and swiftly he projects a copy of himself in front of her. On the outskirts of the city, held up close to the mountains in the west, Lorelei clasps a hand to her heart as the projection of Loki startles her.

“I loath your ability to do that,” Lorelei says angrily as her hand lowers.

“No time for pleasantries,” Loki responds with a smirk. “You will be found out soon.”

“What? You said I would have more time.”

“I can detour the company I keep for only so long.”

“Then I will just have to do what I want with less time.”

Loki bows his head slightly, his smirk still remaining. “Best you do that then.”

As Lorelei looks away, Loki's gaze falls on the copper headed man coming forward to kneel in front of her. It is Lorelei who holds a smirk on her face now as she looks at Loki and says, “He has made for a divine servant. My thanks for that.”

Loki looks at the pitiful Haldor once more before he vanishes himself away, coming back entirely to his mother's rooms. He takes a step towards joining his friends, but he has to pause for a moment as his head becomes light in the process. Clutching a pillar for support, his hands are tighter upon it than anticipated as his hand lifts away and reveals the imprint of the knotted pattern upon his skin. He rubs at the indents with his other hand as he shakes his head slightly, willing the empty feeling to leave him.

“Loki,” Thor calls out joyfully, “we've found her.”

Though Loki could very well confirm that they have not, he still smiles and joins his brother. In the end he knows it will all turn in his favor.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

“GO! Get out now!” Loki orders as loudly as he can. Beside him Fandral does the same while across the square Hogun and Volstagg are voicing the same orders to the Asgardians who fly past them. 

The situation at hand is more than Loki anticipated. When he had first made his deal with Lorelei he agreed, that in exchange for bewitching Haldor for a time, he would allow her to take just a few warriors. She spoke of leaving Asgard, of taking the few men she cast under her spell and leaving for good. As Loki looks around at the frightened people rushing around him and then towards the lines of warriors advancing their way he realizes that his deal with Lorelei has been shredded. There is no way he can protect her now, especially not with his father assisting them today.

They had gone to the ramshackle home on the outskirts of town that Lorelei had started her operations in. As Loki had expected, she was long gone after his warning. Such a thing had been to his plan though as he swiftly summoned his own magic and blatantly lied to his friends that he had been able to find her trail. They followed him without question, for Sif's desire to catch Lorelei drove them all to charge forth without much thought. While originally Loki planned for this rift between them and Lorelei would only end with Haldor breaking free of her spell, her escaping reluctantly, and his party relinquishing to the fact that she is lost to the void of space, it is not going to be as such now. Lorelei has become full of herself, has taken advantage of what Loki gave her and now even he admits to himself that she must suffer the consequences. The only thing though, Loki plays around in his head, is how he is going to continue to come out on top of this situation.

Loki's eyes draw towards a small girl stumbling towards them. She is defiant in her look as no tears stream down her face, but it is clear she is struggling to keep up. Swiftly Loki strides towards her and swoops her up into his arms. With a soft voice he asks, “Where are your parents, darling?”

The girl looks at him with a quizzical brow that reminds him of Sif and then answers, “Don't have any.”

“Loki, where is...” Thor begins to ask as he comes up behind him. He stops though as his concern ebbs towards a smile as he sees the girl in Loki's arms. 

Swiftly Loki says to the girl, “Well then, you will just have to make do with Thor and I protecting you today. Is that alright with you?”

The girl beams a smile at the both of them and vigorously nods her head. With a lightness still in his tone, Loki turns to Thor to say, “All those in danger have been warned and most of the square has been vacated. Sif and Father are driving her to this spot.”

“Then here is where we will do battle.”

“Make ready then, I will be back presently.”

Thor nods in understanding and then flashes a warm smile to the girl one last time before Loki turns to find her safety. After walking a few paces Loki looks over his shoulder and sees that there is no one about. He hikes the girl up in his arms, to gain a better grip, and in hushed secrecy he asks her, “Can you keep a secret?”

She smiles bashfully and silently says yes with a small nod. Holding the girl tight Loki concentrates his magic and creates a replica of himself. She squeals slightly at the sight of two of him, but her ease comes about just as quickly. Slowly Loki sets her down on the ground and immediately his replica reaches out a hand that she quickly grasps. Bending down entirely to her height, Loki says gently, “Follow my twin here and he will lead you to safety. I know you to be brave enough to do this.”

“I am,” she responds boldly before Loki's replica swiftly leads her away. Protect your people from evil and destruction is what his mother has always told him. Without a doubt Loki has every intention of upholding these believes, all the more so now as he hears the sound of marching feet in the distance. Knowing that the girl is still in his own good hands, Loki therefore turns back towards the square without a further thought of concern. 

The sight before him is one that makes him clench his jaw in anger. Lorelei stands with a smirk upon her beautiful face and a hoard of bewitched warriors behind her. Loki wonders if she knows what she is doing, if she knows that he can no longer protect her. Her powerful stance and a quick glance over her should at her amassed army makes Loki think that she believes she will see victory today. Without a doubt she is entirely wrong in this thinking for not only was it Loki who betrayed her to Thor and Odin, he also has every intention of being the one to stop her entirely.

Yet Loki's heart falls hard to the ground as her delicate hand reaches towards Haldor and brings him forward. He is not the shy man who spoke of the magical properties of medicine to Loki anymore. He is not himself at all anymore. Instead he stares out at the slowly circling Einherjar with a blank muteness before he draws forth a sword, alongside the other bewitched men around him.

For a moment Loki thinks upon what has brought him here to this point. Envy. Loki knows very well that his envy has brought them to this point. He cannot help it though, the rage that still burns in him even with his heart on the ground. He cannot help but feel like he lost just one more thing when seeing the happiness between Sif and Haldor when they looked upon each other.

Now he hurts even more, but Loki wants to remember this pain. He wants it to remain in his heart for a long time. What is more, he believes that it will remain in Sif's heart for a long time as well for Loki is starting to find it hard to believe that Lorelei will relinquish her powers over Haldor so easily. Her plan has gone far beyond what she had discussed with Loki before and he should have known she would take advantage of the situation. Silently he reprimands himself for looking in advance towards how his friends would act but not entirely on Lorelei.

Loki feels so naive and stupid now that his father is present, for with Odin taking the helm of this battle Loki knows full well the weight of their predicament. Yet his thoughts do not find voice, instead he remains silent as Odin steps forward. With his great booming voice that is loud even when uttering a whisper, Odin says to Lorelei, “Return our warriors to their previous state and surrender. You have my word that your punishment will be less severe if you follow my terms.”

Lorelei laughs lightly and smiles. She allows for a long pause before she responds, “Oh, Allfather, your word means very little to me.”

“You would have battle then?”

“I would have war.” 

Lorelei's gaze pierces into Odin as she announces this, yet the king of Asgard is less than moved. What does move him though is the charging of men as Lorelei issues her orders for them to spring into battle. With a battle cry of his own, Odin orders his Einherjar to advance. Thor, Loki, Sif, and the Warrior's Three bound forward as well, drawing forth their desired weapons to attack the men and women they used to call friends. Yet they are not their friends anymore, they are possessed by Lorelei and must be stopped in any way possible.

Loki cannot help but grimace as he lets his first dagger fly and it strikes the shoulder of an Asgardian. Never hurt your people, for they will only rise to hurt you in return, his mother used to always chide. As Loki swings about, sending forth another dagger, he reprimands himself for not remembering that Sif, Haldor, and Lorelei are his people as well. That even with their heightened or lowly statuses they are still Asgardian and because of that Loki knows he has failed them as their prince. He has failed a great many people as he is forced to duck so that his father can swing Gungnir in an arching blast of light and power.

He can redeem himself though, he can still salvage the situation. Using his own powers, striking against Lorelei's power, Loki dives into the dark tresses of Haldor's mind. As his hands warm with a ball of energy that he then shoots forth in the wake of Thor striking Mjolnir against the earth and shaking all those around them, Loki draws Haldor closer to him, convincing him to step nearer with only his power of mental persuasion.

Yet there is a twinging, tickling that dances across Loki's nerves even as Haldor steps closer to him. It is not his own trepidation though, for he is determined to at least get Haldor out of this battle. For all the pain he may have caused his friend, for all that he did out of jealousy and angst, Loki still greatly desires to rescue Haldor from the fate befalling the other warriors around him. Far too late Loki realizes that the feeling that sends sparks along his skin is Lorelei attempting to combat his powers.

Loki holds his ground and does not jump back as he wants to as he feels Lorelei's hand descend upon his shoulder. He knows he is able to combat her powers, able to throw off the yoke of persuasion that bears down upon Haldor as he stops feet in front of Loki, yet Lorelei does not issue forth such powers over him. Instead she whispers in his ear, “Killing him would earn you so much more satisfaction than rescuing him.”

“It is not satisfaction I seek,” Loki says softly, though he knows Lorelei will still hear him over the calamity of battle. 

“Then it must be pain you crave.”

Loki barely has time to raise a hand in defense before Haldor charges at him. Haldor's sword is about to crash down upon Loki as he rises it high above his head when it meets Sif's strong blade. Instantly, as metal scrapes against metal, Sif says to Haldor, “I do not wish to fight you.”

“You have threatened my beloved, Lorelei,” Haldor responds, his tone monotone and diluted. 

Sif's face contorts in pain as she parries another slash from his mighty sword. “Please, come back to me.”

From the corner of his eye Loki can see Lorelei moving forward, ready to watch both of them tear each other apart, and in an instant Loki springs towards her. In one hand he throws forth a ball of energy towards her and in the other hand he lets a dagger sing through the air. Lorelei takes the magic projected at her easily enough, the dagger however sinks deep into her thigh. She lets out a howl of pain and Haldor immediately stops fighting Sif to turn towards his enchantress.

Yet Sif does not see him turn in enough time and her blade slices into his exposed abdomen. It is Haldor's turn to shout as he rounds on Sif once more and Loki runs towards Lorelei. Nimble hands grasp the dagger in her thigh and twist it further in. Through gritted teeth Loki spits, “End this, end this now!”

Behind him he can hear Sif and Haldor continue to fight, his rage growing ever more as she meets him time and again with equal strength. Yet Lorelei's lips turn towards a smile as she responds, “You are the one who started this, it must be you who ends it.”

“You will rot in prison for the sake of seeing me suffer.”

“I will happily go to prison knowing that I caused pain to a son of Odin.”

“I have done nothing to you,” Loki sputters in anger, his hand twisting the dagger ever more into her. “I was going to help you.”

Lorelei's smile fades as Loki rips the dagger from her leg and she lets out another scream of pain. Her mouth snaps shut as she looks directly at Loki, her eyes fierce with a burning fire. Carefully she enunciates precisely, “Not my orders, not my plan.”

Loki is about to question her when he hears Sif cry out in pain behind him. Turning around he sees Haldor baring down on her, his sword edging ever closer to her fragile neck, and the strength in her arms slowly beginning to diminish. Loki does not need any goading from Lorelei anymore; he sees what is before him and he knows he has no other choice but to act.

Conjuring a sword in his hand, Loki steps towards Haldor while he continues to bare down upon the now kneeling Sif. In a cruelty that he is sure even the Norns will turn their eyes away from, Loki pierces the tip of the sword into Haldor's flesh, scraping against bone and vital organs as the blade moves from back to chest. With his face crumpling towards pain and anguish already, Loki draws the sword out of Haldor and allows the weapon to disappear from his hands.

Swiftly Sif scrambles out from beneath Haldor before he crumples forward, falling towards the ground in a defeated and last exhale. Loki cannot look at his wide eyes that stare up at them in disbelief. Nor can he comfort Sif just yet as she stares despairingly at the man she loved, his blood covering her face and dripping down her armor. Instead Loki culminates all the magic left in his being, ever ounce of energy he has available, and turns to shoot it forth towards Lorelei.

Fiery eyes go wide before Lorelei holds up her hands to deflect what has been sent her way. Loki's anger is too strong though, his power is too much, and she crumbles beneath it as it sends her flying through the air. With a cry Lorelei falls upon her back and there she remains. Carefully Loki strides up to her, his eyes quick to catch anything that is amiss as he conjures up the handcuffs they had prepared for her arrest.

Yet his eyes also take in that the battle has stopped around him. Asgardians once bewitched slowly come to themselves, as if waking from a dream, and their fellow friends quickly lay down their arms to stop the feud. Without a word Loki kneels down and cinches the handcuffs around Lorelei's wrists, the metal and magic whirling into place.

As Thor strides forward and helps his brother to bring Lorelei to her feet, Loki can vaguely hear his father saying, “We arrest you with the charges of endangering the people and realm of Asgard...”

Though dazed slightly, Lorelei still finds a smug smile as Thor leads her away. As Loki said before, he is not here to feel satisfaction. Instead it seems like it is indeed pain he desires to feel as he turns and looks at Sif. She kneels over Haldor's still body, one hand running through his hair and the other clutching her side, as if she too has been wounded. It is not a physical wound that had been dealt to her though, it is a wound that is far deeper than Loki ever wanted to be issued to her.

This was not supposed to happen, Loki laments to himself. A small skirmish where he defeated Lorelei and broke Haldor from his spell. A moment where he became a hero in Sif's eyes and a savior in Haldor's.

“Sif...” Loki dares to start.

There is no will for her to even look up at him as she swiftly says, “Remove yourself from my presence.”

He has lost both of them entirely.

 


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**  
** The dank dripping resonates like a pendulum reflecting the passing moments of life. Though the sound would leave even the most optimistic downtrodden, Loki is already feeling lowly of himself. Therefore the Asgardian prison welcomes him now more so than his own rooms have been able to in the last few weeks. Yet, even with this somber embrace that does not bring even a shiver to him, Loki still walks forward with some trepidation in his step. 

“So, you've finally come to see me,” Lorelei scathingly says as she looks up to see Loki standing in front of her prison cell. Corridors lined with small bare cells network across the lower sectors of the palace and though all are filled with numerous prisoners across numerous realms, Lorelei stands alone in hers. 

Slowly Loki takes a step closer to her bare cell, his eyes smoothly falling across the barrier, that glimmers like geometric gold, which separates them. He knows the prison cell will hold her, yet he still glances to make sure before he quirks a smile her way. Clutching his hands behind his back he smoothly replies, “Well, I knew you weren't going anywhere so I thought I would take my time.”

A low laugh emanates from Lorelei and she takes a step closer to the barricade that separates them. Brushing aside a strand of her golden red hair, she says, “I suppose you wanted me in here all along, this was all a part of your great plan.”

Loki does not bulk, or even denotes a hint of the truth. “You made more people suffer than I thought you would.”

“Does your heart still ache for your departed Haldor?” Lorelei pauses and tilts her head. “Or is it that Sif now scorns you? For surely that has happened, given her integrity I hardly believe she would fall into the arms of the man who killed her beloved. No, I think she is finding comfort in another. Perhaps Thor even...”

“Why did you disobey my orders?” Loki swiftly interrupts before she can carry on. By the Norns he hates how intuitive she is and, worse yet, how completely right she is on the matter. 

“Your orders? From what I recall we had a deal, there was no leader in our arrangement.” 

“But there was an arrangement and you broke it entirely.”

Lorelei holds out her hands at her sides in abject innocence. “Is that why I am here? Because I crossed a son of Odin?”

Loki would like nothing more than to not flinch at such a title, but he knows a twitch under his eye has given him away. Even thought it was his insight that had led them to Lorelei and his hands that had imprisoned her, Loki still received barely a flicker of interest from his father. In the recesses of his mind he rationalizes that his father believed this to be a battle that could have been avoided. That, compared to other matters of the Nine Realms, dealing with a nuisance like Lorelei was but a pinprick of a matter. Yet this was not a pinprick to Loki, it was even far beyond the changing of the wind that Hogun had predicted it would be. This great distance of opinion on this matter has left Loki feeling even less like a son of Odin.

Despite this Loki smoothly replies, “You crossed the king and princes of Asgard by taking up arms against the innocent people of this realm.”

“There is no such thing as innocence.”

For a moment Loki thinks upon the small girl he had led away from harm just before the battle. He had never gathered her name, but he knows that she is safely back in the orphanage she calls home. She is innocent, there is no past tense with her, for even after witnessing what she did Loki still believes her to have innocence in her heart.

Loki also believes, that even with all the things he has seen and done, that he still possesses some innocence. Though he would gladly argue that Thor only holds ignorance, Loki still knows that even his brother has a sliver of innocence within him as well. For Loki he has it in the workings of the universe. With all his knowledge, and that he will gain, he still knows he will always hold an innocence concerning the world. It eats away at him sometimes, feeling like more of a detriment than a blessing, but it is always then that Loki must remind himself that his innocence drives him to find out more, to expand his knowledge. While the whole of the universe is the heart of Loki's innocence he also knows that Thor's innocence is quite the opposite, for his lies within himself. He is so set on being a warrior that minstrels sing songs of that he fails to remember that most heroes in songs are long dead. Without a doubt Loki worries about the day when Thor's innocence leads him to be a remembrance in a song. He can only hope that Thor will realize his own imperfections before such a day comes. In all of his bitterness Loki still loves his brother and wishes him to remain alive for a while longer.

With all this in mind Loki tilts his head slightly and looks at Lorelei like she is an amusing attraction. His lips curve upward as he willingly admits, “Now if you truly thought that then you would not have taken advantage of the innocence in my heart.”

“That which you held for Haldor?”

“And still for Sif.”

“You could not have them both, surely you realized that at some point. I did you a favor by eliminating one of them.”

“And destroying the other.”

Lorelei's smile is cruel, yet she responds, “Maneuver just right, Loki, and you could have her.”

“I think your innocence is showing now. I do not think you could be so ignorant when it comes to the way men and women think concerning the ways of love.”

“I manipulate, I do not love. Only my sister is fool enough to try her hand at love.”

Loki steals a glance down the empty hallway, his eyes however are unable to see Amora in her distant cell. Turning back to Lorelei he comments, “I wonder why you have been placed here instead of with your sister.”

“She and I are not as close as you and Thor are, therefore I believe it is better this way.” Lorelei pauses for a moment and then blatantly comments, “Amora could help you, you do realize that don't you?”

“Help me with what precisely?” Loki swiftly asks with an edge to his voice. “Help me in the way you did?”

Lorelei laughs heartily, her golden red tresses shaking with the assault. “Oh, I had no intention of helping you, Loki, I never did. I care only for what I want and you were naive enough to believe my lies. Naive enough to give me the sliver of power I needed to start my uprising.”

“Much good it did you,” Loki comments, though he knows he would like to bite back with something far harsher after such a comment. Never again will he be naive in his trust. He must learn from this experience, take from it what he needs to harden himself, and move on. Therefore Loki knows he should turn away from her now, yet he is compelled to ask once more, “What could Amora possibly help me with though?”

The slight smirk does not leave Lorelei's face. “I'm going to let you figure that one out on your own, you do not need my assistance on such a matter. It doesn't seem like you will be earning my assistance on much of anything anymore. Not with what Sif has in store for me.”

Loki's brow furrows in question as he softly utters, “What?”

“She tells me she is having a collar fashioned,” Lorelei responds with ease and lightness. “She rambled slightly, you know how filled with pride and honor she is, but the point of the matter is you will perhaps be the last person I speak to.”

“Sif is leashing your ability to bewitch, by silencing your voice?”

“It burns her too much that I bewitched your dear Haldor.”

“She's not the only one.”

“You wanted it, dear,” Lorelei retorts. “In that I was following your orders.”

Loki stands awkwardly in front of her before he says softly, “You could have stopped, this still could have been avoided, you could have been spared of this punishment.”

“You have learned nothing then. I would rather be here than suffer an existence where I must follow the orders of a man. I mean to have power and believe me, for you will know when you taste it too, there is nothing more fulfilling than being your own master and ruling over others. So let me 'rot' here as so many have eloquently put it, I will see freedom again.”

Lorelei's eyes became inflamed with a blazing passion as she spoke. Yet Loki merely scoffs and responds, “No, you won't and even if you do I will make sure it is I alone who drags you back here.”

There is no scathing remark from Lorelei as Loki fixes her with a final stare before he turns away from the cell. Behind him though he can hear her soon to be silenced voice resonating against the echoing walls one final time, saying, “If you ever desire to taste the power I speak of, see Amora. That is what she can help you with.”

Loki continues walking, ignoring her completely as he makes his way out of the dungeons. Under his breath though, so no one but him hears, he says, “I have no desire to wear a hollow crown.”

Swiftly Loki bounds up the stairs, striving to see the world above as soon as he can. Being in the dungeons thus long has already left him uneasy.

  
* * * * * * * * * *

  
A glimmer of silver glides through the air, like rain falling upon the ground, as Sif brings her double-bladed sword down upon Fandral. Even as she is forced to take a step back and charge at him again, Sif's look remains neutral and calm. It is as if she finds peace in battle. Loki knows she always has and yet, as he observes her from the shadows of the colonnaded hallway along the outer reaches of the training grounds, he thinks that her drive for battle has recently become filled with a passion he has not seen before. It is not a passion to seek justice through the end of a blade, it is a passion to never fail or fall. It is a set look Loki has only seen in battle hardened warriors like Hogun and Volstagg before.

Unconsciously Loki's fingers intertwine and he picks at scabs that do not exist along his skin. It is a trifling habit that he knows gives away his unease, yet it is unease that he feels in abundance right now and the small act cannot be helped. He feels unease at seeing Sif like this, at seeing her with a coldness in her eyes and a passion to fight onward even when Fandral calls for abdication to their mock fight. Another warrior steps up, a line of them already forming to see who can tire Sif first, as Fandral stumbles away. It looks like his ears are still ringing from the assault Sif issued him as he sheaths his foil with a trembling hand.

With a small shake of his head though Fandral seems to come partially to his senses as he looks up and sees Loki in his slightly hidden location. Though Fandral often greets Loki with a slight smirk, none is offered by either of them as the two converge in the shade of the covered hallway. Their conversation starts with Fandral bluntly asking, “Have you trained with her yet?”

A period of time does not need to be insinuated, for both know that Fandral speaks of a period of time since the battle with Lorelei and the death of Haldor. For has been since this time that Sif has hardened herself to become fiercer than she was even before. Slowly Loki shakes his head and responds, “Surely she will kill me if I even attempt to.”

This comment causes Fandral to chuckle lightly as he rubs at his sore shoulder. “Indeed she will.”

“So even you think it as well?”

“We all do,” Thor says suddenly, startling both Fandral and Loki in the process. The two turn around to see Thor striding towards them, his armor glittering in the beams of light that shine through the colonnade. He stops between them, folds his arms over his wide chest, and looks towards Sif as she spins a poor warrior through the air before her sword comes down towards his head. She stops just before reaching skin, yet it is enough for the warrior to hold his breath in fear. With a sigh she lets him up and calls for another contender. 

Loki mournfully asks his two friends, “There is never a chance she will forgive me, is there?”

“She has always been a never forgive and never forget sort of person,” Fandral answers with a sad shrug. “Though I do wish she wasn't so steadfast in this vendetta.”

“She needs time,” Thor says with more optimism that the other two. “She will come to realize eventually that you acted out of virtue and love. You did not willingly kill Haldor, we all know that, Loki, and she will too some day.”

“My thanks, Thor,” Loki says with a small nod of gratitude as his hands fall towards his side. “So, just give it a few centuries then?”

Fandral laughs slightly and shakes his head. “Perhaps let her take you on in battle to see if her anger can be dispelled faster.”

“Are you suggesting I walk into the fire?”

“What better way to ease her anger than to let her fight it out with you. She nearly took my arm off so I do not know what she will do to you, but it could help.”

Loki lets out a sad sigh. “I do not want to fight her though.”

“Do you think words would do better?” Thor asks with a slight scoff. “Sif is not one for words like you are.”

“I realize as such, brother. That does not mean I cannot hope.”

“Whatever you say,” Fandral says, his eyebrow raised in speculation at the very idea, “is not going to get through to her. She will not believe a word you say, not matter what it is you manage to say.”

“So both of you are in agreement then? Action is the only thing I can do?”

“That or wait out her anger for a few centuries, as you so said,” Thor says with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “It is merely a matter of how much Sif means to you.”

“You tread close to my anger now, Thor,” Loki says with a warning edge. “It pains me everyday what I had to do to Haldor. And I'm sure both of you know I only acted the way I did out of my love for Sif.”

Both Thor and Fandral look at Loki with complete faith and belief as they nod in agreement and understanding. Yet they both look at each other with slight curiosity before Fandral dares to ask, “Still, what will you do, Loki?”

The question is so broad that for a moment Loki has to ponder on the scale of it. In the whole of things there is a great many things he wants to do. Yet he knows that what they speak of is concerning the matter at hand. Therefore, to avoid a reflection on his entire personal character, Loki thinks solely upon Sif as well. His eyes glance towards her as she rests for a moment, her breath coming in short gasps after fighting so many warriors for so long.

Loki's answer is in his action as he steps from the shadows of the colonnaded hallway and strides towards Sif. He holds his gaze to her and it does not escape his notice that her entire body tenses as she sees him coming towards her. For months now she has carefully avoided him, her eyesight constantly dodging his and her words absent entirely. Yet the look in her eyes tell Loki that she realizes such things are not going to happen today, that today things will change once more between them.

Breaking away from her gaze for but a moment, Loki reaches the weapons rack and takes up a double-bladed sword. It is nearly identical to Sif's as he lets both blades spring forth in the clutches of his slightly shaking hands. He is nervous, he is scared that what he is about to do will be the wrong thing. After all, when has listening to Thor and Fandral ever served him well, he thinks to himself as he turns to Sif once more.

“What do you want, Loki?” Sif asks with haughty skepticism. 

Loki raises his sword, the weapon suddenly feeling awkward and strange in his hands when he usually enters battle, and even training, with his hands filled with magic instead of metal. Slowly, so his voice does not stumble, he responds, “It is what you want, Sif, that I am willing to comply to.”

“You think I want to fight you?”

Loki takes a daring step forward and instantly Sif positions herself into a fighting stance. He cannot help but quirk his eyebrow upward at this move. “I thought it was obvious.”

In times past Sif would have questioned Loki more, would have inquired as to his meaning, but this time she does not. Instead she holds her stance and mutters, “Let us begin then.”

Instantly Loki moves into a fighting position as well, one edge of the sword raised high in the air while the lower dances just above the ground, ready to swing in a finalizing blow with the simple twist of his wrist. With one step to her right, Loki mirrors Sif's movements as he dances towards his right as well, both beginning to circle one another. Where there was passion and drive in her eyes and her stance before, Sif shows both more so now as she watches Loki. She knows what he is capable of, how he fights in battle, and she is weary of him holding a sword now and even more weary of his intentions for fighting her.

Sif is the first to strike as she swings her sword down and against Loki's right side. He is quick to parry though, their blades clashing against one another in the sweetest ring Sif has ever heard. Sif is swift to strike again, the sound of their blades clashing filling her with relief and joy in a way she had not thought it would. For without a doubt she had dreamed of this moment, thought a great many times what it would be like to simply fight Loki, to diminish and destroy him for what he had done. He had killed Haldor, he took away the man she loved, of course she had thought of vengeance. Never did she think she would get the opportunity though, so she relishes each time she is able to deliver a blow that leaves his arm quaking in the aftermath.

Not a thought, not even a question, enters Sif's mind as she continues to hammer against Loki as he desperately tries to combat her and not once uses his magic. She does not care that he is only using a sword, making them virtually equal, she only cares to weaken him. Killing no, but weakening is definitely something Loki could be afforded, Sif thinks as she twists just right and slashes her sword across Loki's exposed left arm. Instantly Loki lets out a small cry of pain and disbelief. Yet he does not even bother to look down at the wound, thought it is not severe, for he dares not risk taking his eyes off of Sif and her deadly blade.

The blood slowly drips down Loki's wounded arm, yet both of his hands stay steady on his sword. Despite this wound Loki strikes at Sif with a new found energy. Surprise radiates throughout her as she parries against Loki's swift attacks, yet her desire to see him defeated drives her to seek an upper hand. She gains it swiftly with a simple step and a small upward strike from the bottom blade. With such a move Loki stumbles slightly. A spark glints in Sif's eyes as Loki stumbles once again while she brings her sword down so hard against his that his arm does lower with a shake.

With a cry of triumph Sif kicks out Loki's feet from under him and before his body even hits the ground her blade is upon his neck. For a moment Loki stares up at the blue sky above, his gaze hazy with hurt and his breath labored to catch itself. Yet he only has to blink a few times before he is able to focus on Sif once more. There is a slight shrug in his shoulders as he lets his sword fall from his fingers and allows it to roll slightly away from him. Softly he asks her, “Is your heart filled with less hatred towards me now?”

“I never hated you,” Sif spits out, her blade still trained upon his throat as it bobs slightly in a fearful swallow. With a growl of anguish Sif tosses aside her sword as well, yet to see the relief on Loki's face only causes her to swiftly leer over him as she clenches her fist and strikes a punch to his jaw. Loki's eyes remain closed in pain as he awaits another swift punch. Yet it does not come and slowly he opens his eyes, one at a time. With a slight huff Sif looks away from Loki and his inquisitive gaze as she continues, softer this time, “I hate that you felt killing Haldor was the only solution.”

“He was going to kill you, Sif. I saw no other choice.”

Sif turns towards a hardness again. “There is always another choice.”

Her pulled back hair is now disheveled, falling slightly in her face, and yet Loki cannot help but think that even now she is beautiful. There is every possibility of her feeling improved about gaining the ability to physically expel her anger out on him, but Loki knows that there is no longer any possibility of her ever having affections towards him. No matter what he says, no matter what he does, she will never completely trust him again.

Yet he also sees the fiery hatred beginning to ebb from Sif's eyes as she pulls away from him. Even more to his surprise is seeing her outstretched hand. Without hesitation though he grasps it and allows her to help him up. That is all the contact she allows though as she swiftly retracts her hand and strides away from Loki without further thought or discussion.

The sting from his wound comes upon him like a crashing wave though as he turns and walks back to Thor and Fandral. They had moved from the hallway and towards the training grounds during the bout, yet they remain still now as Loki hobbles his way towards them. Both hold a hopefulness in their dispositions as Fandral says, “Well, that went better than anticipated.”

“You mean I still breathe with life?” Loki asks with a slight smirk. 

“Indeed,” Thor comments and is about to bring a joyful hand down upon Loki's shoulders when he instantly stops. His brow furrows slightly as he looks at the bleeding wound. “Will you have that looked upon?”

“Of course, as soon as I can stumble my way to the medical quarters.” 

At this Loki turns to accomplish just that, yet Thor causes him to pause as his brother says, “You did a good thing today, Loki.”

Though Loki would like nothing more than to scoff at Thor's comment, knowing full well that he has only begun to brush the surface of repairing his friendship with Sif, he only nods his head. He swallows hard before he responds, “Thank you, brother.”

 


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**  
** There is a slight whirring noise that tickles Loki's ears. While others might hark to such a noise, he knows better and quickly ducks just as Mjolnir flies through the air back towards Thor's waiting hand. Even in the heat of battle Loki still rises to his full height again to face Thor and say loudly, “One of these days that damn thing is going to hit me and not your target.”

Thor lifts Mjolnir in show and responds, “I have but one target and I will not miss this time.”

“Best you do that.”

A week ago they had been peacefully sitting at the table eating their breakfast when their father came in to announce rather disturbing news. Once more, to everyone's concern, an Asgardian had decided to rise up against Odin. Though Lorelei's attempt has been several centuries past, the memory of it still lingers. Therefore, while Thor's face was alight with the possibility of warfare, Loki's eyes had narrowed in concern and speculation. They were told the most general of facts, that this Imir was plotting to overthrow Odin, to gain the throne of Asgard for himself, and he was currently in Nidavellir trying to accomplish his treason.

It was to Loki's surprise though that Thor insisted that just the two of them go to the Dwarfish realm to capture or destroy Imir. The fighting mechanism that they have with Sif and the Warrior's Three is unprecedented and perhaps one of the greatest group of warriors Asgard has ever seen. Yet, Loki's heart had also lightened at the idea of just fighting alongside his brother, therefore he readily agreed to the idea. Now though, Loki is beginning to wonder if his judgment was wrong, that he and Thor alone cannot defeat one man.

Imir's large form stands before them, his thick arms still holding the battle-axe he forced the Dwarfs to create for him. It is one that they have learned allows him to break the fabric of reality with a single swipe and overthrow any other weapons it comes into contact with. They had both looked at each other undoubtedly as Imir had opened a portal into another realm with the axe, yet Thor was quick to follow him through the hole in space. The task at hand is clear, they need to rid Imir of the axe completely if they have any chance of defeating him.

With his face set in determination, Loki summons the power to accomplish this task. With a twist of his wrist he is able to make the axe in Imir's hand shake slightly, with a flick of his fingers he is able to make it tremble. Finally, with a great deep breath that expands his chest, to the point of causing the leather armor he wears to groan in protest, Loki swiftly draws his outstretched arm back to his side. In an instant the axe follows the movement of his arm and is now grasped in his waiting hand. There is no triumphant smirk from Loki though, not as he turns to Thor and nods in readiness.

It is now that Thor must stop him entirely. Though disarmed Imir is still powerful, and while Loki knows he could use his axe against him, he also knows that Thor is going to be swift in finishing off their foe. Therefore Loki turns his mind towards magic once more. Raising his free hand, Loki begins to coax a heat to rise. The room is already immensely hot, as the mighty hall is filled with at least a dozen forges, all that have only recently been abandoned upon their arrival to rid the Dwarfs of Imir's hold over them. Yet Loki wants Imir to feel the full extent of the flames that helped to forge his weapon, therefore he raises his hand ever higher to beacon the flames to rise as well. They lick out from the forges, sending golden red sparks flying towards Imir's already blazing and angry dark eyes.

It is not going to be enough though, Loki thinks bitterly to himself. He knows Thor is thinking the exact same thing as his brother grips Mjolnir tightly in his fist. If there is one thing that has not changed between Thor and Loki it is that in the height of battle, while Loki holds the enemy in place, it is Thor alone who is able to end the battle. Therefore Loki braces himself, all the while holding his magic in his now shaking hands as Imir tries to fight against it, even without his axe, as Thor now raises Mjolnir high.

The crack of thunder is so loud that it shakes the hall, causing dust to fall from the ceiling and the floor beneath them to tremble. Through the nearest forge chimney a brilliant flash of brilliantly luminescent lightning comes down from the sky above and falls towards Mjolnir like a worshiper. In the same breath Thor flexes his muscular arm and forcefully points Mjolnir towards Imir. The man who wanted to be king is struck full force in the chest by the summoned lightning. It catches him with such power that he is propelled through the air before he lands a great distance away from the two brothers.

With a sigh of relief Loki lowers his aching arms and the fires of the forges turn back towards softly glowing embers. He tilts his head towards Thor and says lightly, “About time.”

“I wanted to give you a chance to fight as well,” Thor responds with a broad smile as they begin to walk towards the unconsciously bruised and burnt Imir. 

“How generous of you.”

Though Loki's tone is light and playful, his eyes still look at Mjolnir in Thor's hands with envy and menace. He pauses as he watches Thor place handcuffs around Imir's wrists and tries to rouse the incapacitated rebel. All the while a striking thought comes back to his mind as sharply as the lightning had taken to Imir's chest. That Loki could be equal to his brother in battle, and in the eyes of their father, if only he had something as powerful as Mjolnir to wield.

This thought strikes Loki every so often. It can come at the quietest of times, when he is in private solitude, or at times such as these, when the issue is clearly in front of him. What causes him anger is that he still has not found a solution to this problem yet. Already, as Thor manages to rouse Imir and lifts him to a wobbly standing position, Loki is thinking about how Thor will be praised for bringing Imir down. After all, it was Thor's final strike, his power from Mjolnir, that defeated Imir. It was not Loki's magic; it is never Loki who is able to deliver the final blow. Rightly so, as he is always prone to do, Odin will praise Thor's accomplishments and Loki will merely receive a silent pat on the back.

Frigga will praise him, smile as he relays to her the magic he was able to use, but it is not the same in Loki's heart and mind. Though he knows that his mother's love for him is incredibly strong, a thing that gives him strength as well, it is always dashed by the power of discontent and uncaring that his father only ever offers him. Hatred is far more powerful than love, despite everything his mother has taught him otherwise, this is what Loki truly sees in front of him day after day.

Loki comes into focus once again as he hears Thor saying his name once again. Yet all he offers is a soft hum and the question, “What?”

“Imir is well enough to walk to the Bifrost site,” Thor answers with only slight concern crossing his face towards his brother's hazy state. He assumes it is just the weariness from battle though as he then asks, “Are you ready to go home?”

The question is so innocent, Loki thinks with a slight smile. Therefore, he merely replies, “Yes, of course.”

Offering a helping hand to guide Imir as well, Loki grasps their prisoner with a firm hand while Thor leads them forth. They are showered with praise by the Dwarfs as they exit the forges with the man who forced them to create such a menacing weapon. While Thor heartily takes the attention with a gracious smile, it is Loki who turns to one of the Dwarfs and hands him the axe Imir wielded.

The Dwarf takes it graciously and listens intently as Loki says with great seriousness, “This must be melted down, destroyed utterly, before it gets into the wrong hands.”

_ Though it could be in my hands _ . This thought startles Loki for a moment, yet he does not reach for the axe, to make it his own, to use its powers. While his fingers still tingle with the feeling of the magic that pulsed through the axe, the magic that could make Imir travel between realms, a power that Loki has been trying to make his own for centuries, he stays fast to his decision. Loki is resolute in having the axe melted down, for he knows the Dwarfs would not have it any other way, they would not allow them to let it leave their realm if they could not help it. Therefore it is with respect and a quiet tongue that Loki watches the Dwarf take the axe back into the hall of forges to destroy it. Though the object that could help him is to leave this world, the feeling of the magic it possessed is not going to leave his memory for long. That, he knows, is what he can use; culminate the power of a destroyed object and no one will be any wiser of his abilities. Now, such a maneuver is by far more to Loki's liking than trying to convince the Dwarfs that he needs to take the axe back to Asgard. 

The axe after all cannot compare to an object such as Mjolnir, nor can it compare to the magic he will emanate with this new knowledge of ripping through space. Deep in his heart though and in the darkest caverns of his mind, Loki still hopes that he will find the sole object of his desires one day, the one that will test the strength of Mjolnir and bring him the praise he knows he never has nor will receive.

Like so many times before though, Loki does not voice his desires or thoughts to Thor. Instead he merely smiles warmly and asks, “Home then?”

Thor nods and looks up to the blue sky above, calling, “Heimdall, open the Bifrost.”

In an instant the shimmering rainbow beam swoops them up and carries them home. Yet home is not yet home until there is a greeting from Heimdall. They receive just that as he closes the Bifrost and says in his deep, resonating voice, “You were successful, congratulations.”

“You shall be at the feast for our victory then,” Thor responds happily before they continue on their way from the observatory to the city proper. 

Though he is loath to do it, Loki still stands beside Thor as they present Imir to Odin in the Hall of Asgard. Loki's mouth is still, yet his mind is not as his anger billows upon seeing Odin remain so neutral and still while he listens to Thor relay all that transpired. For centuries he has stood at the base of the steps leading up to the throne, listening upon and even speaking about all the victories he has been a part of that have brought glory to Asgard. Yet praise is only given for the final, deciding moment in battle, an act that is always put upon Thor.

For a brief moment Loki thinks how unfair it is that Thor is placed with such a heavy burden upon his head, that he knows he must always be the one to finish the battle. Yet, as he listens to Thor's voice raise in excitement as he relays their adventure, Loki also realizes that Thor would not have it any other way. Why would he not? After all, he has never been given an option otherwise as no one else but he has been able to conclude a battle in the way he is able to. Sif has come close, however, and as always, she is the exception.

Without a doubt she is the exception, Loki thinks as he glances over at her. Thor has her enamored with his tale and she smiles at each glance he gives her. Though she has made her peace with Loki, it still does not compare to the love and affection she now gives to Thor. After Haldor's death she grew incredibly inseparable with Thor, perhaps seeing a bit of Haldor in him, and has stayed close to him ever since. In the end, though seeing her smile at Thor in such a way hurts him, Loki still knows that her even speaking to him is a great accomplishment that he should be grateful for. Therefore he has abandoned any hope of there being anything but a shadow of previous friendship between them.

While Loki would like to say that he at least has complete friendship in the Warrior's Three, even with them he knows such a statement is not entirely true. He is certain that Hogun has never fully trusted him and Volstagg has not liked his sense of mischief since before the days of him training them. It is in Fandral alone that Loki knows he has complete friendship. That is why he quirks a look at his fair haired friend now, contemplating whether he should include him in the idea that has been working in the back of his mind since laying his eyes on Imir's axe. Quickly Loki shakes away such a thought, he knows that what he seeks is for him and him alone. No one else has helped him thus far and he is not about to include someone else in it if he cannot help it, even Fandral.

Though Loki stands still as Thor concludes their tale, his insides are already itching to leave the hall. He would rather be well and away than feel his nerves twitch as he hears Odin say, “Well done Thor, your strength through Mjolnir has proven once again what a fine king you will make someday.”

“Thank you, Father,” Thor says, pride beaming from him so greatly that Loki worries he will be blinded by the sunshine of his fair features. “Yes, Mjolnir was at my side, and so was Loki.”

As if realizing that his other son is standing before him as well Odin trains his single eye upon Loki for a single moment, only enough to say, “Assistance is always appreciated.”

There is no gratitude in his tone, merely a flat utterance of opinion. While Loki would like nothing more than to lash out at him with words, he instead purses his lips ever tighter and clenches his fists at his sides. Already he has been at the foot of the throne for too long, already he longs to rid himself of this place and go forth in the direction he truly wishes to be upon. It is to his great thanks now as a pair of Einherjar step forth and take the prisoner Imir away to be placed in the dungeons.

An involuntary shiver runs through Loki as Imir is roughly led away. He has not returned to the dungeons since his conversation with Lorelei so many years ago. Her words still haunt him; as much as Haldor's death still haunts Sif. The temptation to seek out Lorelei has been completely obliterated as she is indeed silenced for all eternity, however, the compelling of idea of Amora is what still lingers within Loki. Yet to fall towards such a temptation would surely cause him to loose himself completely. To even speak to an enchantress like Amora would ruin him completely and for that he feels trepidation lurk within his very soul every time someone is brought to the dungeons or he must go near them.

Once more Loki's mind is brought to the present as he feels a smooth hand come down upon his shoulder. He looks over at his mother before she urges him towards a warm embrace. No matter what day or age, Loki always feels safe with his head on her shoulder and her arms wrapped tightly around him. For a moment he simply closes his eyes and breathes in the lingering scent of flowers, from the garden recently bloomed, that plays across her skin.

Softly, so that only he might hear, Frigga whispers into his ear, “You did very well today, Loki. I'm proud of you.”

Loki shuts his eyes ever tighter and holds his mother even closer, for he is unable to respond to her kindness. Frigga knows that she could fight harder against her husband to encourage Loki, to speak to him as he does Thor, but she also knows it has been an uphill battle since he brought Loki home. Therefore she does what kindnesses she can for her son, knowing that in the end he is her son and perhaps one day he will realize that such a thing can be enough. Until then though she finds no harm in giving Loki these small murmurs, for even she craves for Odin to say such things every so often.

Yet Loki does not know this, he merely feels the relentless push and pull between his parents. On one hand he is ignored and on the other he is beloved. Gently he pulls away from his mother and looks around the crowded, and now rather loud, hall. He cannot help but let out a low sigh as he looks at all he must put up with until he can finally draw away. Yet, it is with this low sigh that Frigga tilts her head slightly.

In an instant she understands her son's concerns and offers him a small smile. It is Loki's turn to tilt his head slightly in question as he asks in a hushed manner, “What is on your mind, Mother?”

To his surprise, and complete delight, Frigga swiftly turns to her right and answers her question to a replica of Loki she has conjured. With a smile she responds, “Your happiness is always on my mind.”

Looking to Loki again she nods her head towards the back of the hall, towards his probable escape. It only takes a quick glance for Loki to realize that she has cloaked him with the illusion of being just another Einherjar, replacing him entirely with a copy she created of him. He offers her a smile of both relief and gratitude before he swiftly makes his way out of the hall.

Breaking free of the crowd feels far greater than a breath taken after being washed away by the sea. Yet Loki does not linger long on this desolate beach, instead he marches towards the entrance of the palace and once through the doors he washes himself of his mother's illusionary cloak. Adorned in his own tunic now, with his own eyes gazing in the direction his confidence leads him, Loki strides towards the docks. In his spare time he has been able to transverse the outer reaches of Asgard, exploring all that is possibly hidden to others. Now though, now with the power he witnesses and held through Imir's axe, Loki quickly finds an empty skiff.

Jumping inside the vessel, Loki's hands are calm and unwavering as he rises the skiff high into the air before urging it forward. Though his hair is shorter than Thor's, rising above his shoulders, the wind still catches a great deal of it as he propels the skiff to move faster the further away from the city he gets. It feels more liberating than capturing Imir and more freeing than bringing peace to the Nine Realms with the mighty force of warriors he so often fights beside. Though such a thought is selfish, a complete opposite example from what he has always been taught, Loki allows himself this small sense of thrilling freedom as the mountains come into view.

Normally, in the numerous times he has made his way to these mountains in the past, Loki begins to slow the skiff upon reaching the cave. This time though, as the narrow slot comes distantly into view, Loki urges the skiff to move faster. His heart races, jumping up into his throat as the wind rushes around him to the point where it stings his eyes. The exhilaration drives him forward, makes him want to go as fast as the skiff is able, and his hands clutch the rudder to keep him balanced as the small cave opening comes closer and closer.

Not a single thought of hesitation crosses Loki's mind, not a single concern. He worries himself silly over the smallest of things; over Thor, over Sif, over his father. He worries that he will never be good enough, that he will never be equal, that he will never be the prince Asgard needs. Yet right now, in this moment, it all does not seem to matter and he wonders why he ever worried about such things before. There is little reason to worry about such things when a small cave just slightly larger than the vessel he flies in is just feet away; when the possibility of personal death and destruction is imminent.

A bright, wide smile comes to Loki's face as the shadow of the cave envelopes him. The walls that slowly shimmered around him countless times before blur past him now. He cannot help but hold his breath as he remembers the power of the axe, recalls every ounce of magical energy it possessed in relation to opening portals through space, and projects that towards the veil that has barricaded him in Asgard for so long.

With a small shout, Loki lets out his waiting breath as the rainbow colors around him fade and before him is a new world. Another shout of joy comes from him as he looks behind and no longer sees Asgard. He has done it, he has broken through the realms without the help of the Bifrost. With joy that can not even be verbally sufficient, Loki realizes that he is no longer bound to the boundaries of Asgard by Odin or Heimdall. He is free.

“Of all the things,” Loki says to himself as he begins to slow his skiff down, “I never thought an axe would get me to this point.”

With wide and eager eyes Loki looks around him and instantly recognizes where he is in the Nine Realms. He has only been able to project himself onto Svartalfheim before, only been able to see the hazy red desolation through lucid eyes before. Now though, Svartalfheim looks far brighter, move vivid than it ever did previously. The red surface of the abandoned planet mingles with the oranges and yellows of dust and clouds. The skiff, as Loki brings it lower to the dry surface of the ground, kicks up rusted dust in its wake, allowing small rocks to skid from previously stable locations down towards new divots and crevices.

The Dark Elves, and the Asgardians who exterminated them, have long since gone from Svartalfheim and Loki knows that here he will find complete solitude. Yet even with this liberating thought, Loki's mind still races far ahead. First he begins to wonder how he will get back. Looking behind him he sees only the barrenness of Svartalfheim. The portal on this side is not as visible as it is on Asgard, therefore Loki begins to turn the skiff back the way he had come.

Slowly this time Loki reaches the location he believes he was able to break through from Asgard. All is open before him, there is no cave nor crevice that dignifies an entrance to a portal through space. Yet, Loki thinks as he turns the skiff ever so slightly, there is still a shimmer of something. Stilling the skiff completely, Loki moves towards the middle of the vessel. Hovering in place, it allows for enough stability so that Loki is able to reach his hand out towards the empty air in front of him.

A mischievous smirk comes to his face as his hand presses flat against the empty air in front of him. It is only now that he is able to see the slight shimmer of dulled rainbow colors better. Well, he thinks to himself, it was not easy coming through, therefore why would it be easy going back? Yet he knows that he is capable of doing it again, of summoning the magic to break through the veil between worlds. What is more, he knows he can do it again elsewhere.

Loki's voice is light as he says to himself, “I wonder where the other portals will take me then.”

Turning the skiff once more Loki moves away from the entrance that will take him back to Asgard, instead deciding to take his time in Svartalfheim for a while, to enjoy his moment of solitude. In all his years of exploring, though this cave was the first, Loki was able to find numerous other shimmering portal entrances. There is not a doubt in his mind that each one will lead him to a different realm. In good time he is sure he will be able to explore the whole of the universe. His greatest lament is that he has always been confined to Asgard and only ever able to leave it in the presence of others. Now, however, no such concerns fill his mind. Instead a great many new and wondrous possibilities fill his mind and heart. There is no shout of joy this time as Loki propels the skiff forward, rushing across the surface of Svartalfheim and feeling the wind take his hair once more, yet there is a lightness in his heart that he has not felt for a very long time.

 


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

  
“Loki, do pay attention,” Frigga reprimands none too kindly as she stands behind her son, her hand pinning one of his own immobile and the other poising a knife to his throat. Gently she lets go of Loki and he takes a step away from her, willing life back into his numb arm.

Shaking his head at his own folly, Loki replies, “Apologies, my head is not with me today, Mother.”

Training in warfare with his mother has always brought joy to Loki, for he has always appreciated her sense of cunning and light swiftness when fighting. Facing the blunt Thor, the lithe Sif, the sturdy Volstagg, the menacing Holgun, and the nimble Fandral has always motivated Loki to perfect and mold his style to different fighting types. However, fighting with his mother has always allowed him to remember his roots, for to fight with someone an equal and similar fighting style is perhaps the most challenging task of all.

Concern crosses Frigga's brow as her small knife falls to her side. “Your head seems clouded with many thoughts.”

“Such a thing was inevitable.” Loki shrugs slightly as he turns his own blade in his hand, absently flipping it slowly between his fingers. “A great change is on the horizon.”

“Change can be good.”

“But is this one?”

Loki had not meant to ask such a question, but with it now out in the open he knows he cannot take it back. His true feelings are out there, whether he likes it or not, for his mother is the only one capable of bringing forth even the most unwanted truths from him. Swiftly Loki looks away from her and, for a brief moment, he closes his eyes against it all. He jerks slightly as he feels her touch, her warm hand affectionately caressing his cheek, and he opens his eyes to look at her once more. He cannot help the pain that crosses his face though, for that he cannot hide either.

Gently Frigga inquires, “Do you worry for your father or do you worry for your brother?”

“I worry for Asgard.”

Though such a statement is true, Loki also knows how underwhelming such a statement is for he is worried about more than just Asgard. His concern runs towards the whole of the Nine Realms. Yet, at least as of yet, no one else has shared his concern. All are in joyful favor of Thor becoming king of Asgard.

The news was announced just this morning, much to Thor's delight and Loki's surprise. Generally the overall reaction to the idea of Thor becoming king has boded well with most, the general populous has been expecting it and their friends have shown their jubilation. Though Loki shared in these happy sentiments, he knows he does not have to hide his true feelings with his mother.

Gently Frigga urges her son to sit down upon the benches adorning the balcony that has been the location of a great many discussions between them throughout the years. Soothingly she says, “While I am happy that the well-being of Asgard is in the forefront of your mind, I am also concerned as to why. You know Thor will make a fine king...”

“That's the thing, Mother, I'm not entirely sure he will be.”

“Thor will make a fine king with you at his side.”

Loki lets out a small sigh at this, partially out of frustration, and swiftly responds, “Will he be so eager to share the throne with me?”

“Yes, he will be.”

“At first, but then...”

“Loki, why do you worry about your brother being on the throne so? He has proven himself worthy time and again...”

“Worthy? Yes, he is always worthy.” Ever since he was gifted with Mjolnir he has been worthy, Loki thinks bitterly to himself. Just once Loki would like to see Thor at his worst, as being unworthy of all. Such a day will not come though, not so far as he can see it, so Loki continues with a firmer tone, “I just still believe Thor, and I as well, are too young to take on the burden of the throne. Surely Father is not done in his years of reign.”

“It is just hard for you to imagine anyone but your father sitting on the throne.”

Loki offers his mother a sad sort of smile and nods his head. “Yes, I suppose so. I just...I fear that Thor is not ready to hold the responsibilities that coincide with being king.”

“That is why you must be there for him, Loki, it is your duty to assist your brother.”

“My duty?” The term feels heavy on Loki's tongue and the thought a greater burden than the idea of Thor sitting upon the throne of Asgard. Despite this he shakes these feelings away. “It will always be my duty to serve the king, for the good of Asgard.”

“Precisely and you will be a fine adviser. Thor will need you.”

“Thor will still have Father though; he will have the throne but he will still have Father guiding him surely.”

Frigga pauses, her hands intertwining with each other, before she responds, “Yes, he will, but not forever.”

Loki's features soften for a moment. “You do not have to remind me that one day Thor and I will have to live without you and Father. We may be young, but we are not silly enough to believe you will be here forever.”

“That is why your father is abdicating to Thor now. We still have years ahead of us, but a transition such as this will be easier than if, down the way, your father is not here at all. Practice upon the throne, with the helping guidance of your father, is a more practical solution. It is meant to guide Thor, and you. We only ever want to help the both of you.”

“I know, Mother.” Loki pauses for a moment and then shakes his head before going on, “I still do not think Thor is ready.”

“Is anyone ever ready for the throne? For the weight that it bears upon the shoulders of the one upholding it? No.”

“Father has not fallen into his slumber for some time, perhaps that is truly what he needs and he will wake from it with a clearer head concerning this matter.”

“You would want your father to sleep and then wake with a new-found zeal to rule?”

“Improbable?”

Frigga smiles at her son's question. “Unlikely. I do not think even slumber will cause him to change his mind on this matter.”

“If he is sure then.”

“Thor is sure as well.”

“The whole of Asgard is sure.”

“All except you.”

Loki shrugs his shoulders lightly and says, “I will come around to the idea.”

“Your father and I are not going away,” Frigga responds with a great deal of compassion as she rests a reassuring hand upon his. “Thor will be king, but he will have us as well as you to help him. That is what he needs, Loki, he needs you.”

Though Loki would like to refute his mother's sentiment, he merely offers her a kind smile. He then offers a change of topic. “Perhaps we can conclude for the day? You have already bested me twice and I have a rather bruised ego because of it.”

Frigga laughs, a gentle ring that Loki never tires of. “Yes, of course, though I expect you to do better the next time.”

Loki rises and bends down to kiss his mother upon her smooth cheek. Kindly he responds, “I shall endeavor to try.”

With this as farewell, Loki strides out of his mother's room. Yet as he stares down the empty hallway before him, he wonders exactly where he should go from here. His path is divided, in more ways than he would like to admit to, yet he must choose a destination. With a mischievous smirk he thinks to himself, perhaps Alfheim today. With the mysterious portals, littered across Asgard, now completely open to him Loki is not lacking in possibilities. Yet Asgard is what aches in his heart, home is what he is concerned about.

Thor, though noble and brave in battle, is hardly ready to hold the throne. Their mother can go on all she likes that though Thor will hold the throne of Asgard, he will still be under the watchful eye of their father, such a thing will not come to pass. The moment Thor has the authority, the ability to wield power, he will squander it. The throne will be nothing more to him than an excuse for endless banquets and a seat where wars are announced. Such a thing is not what Asgard needs, it is not what it deserves.

Yet, in his heart of hearts, Loki wonders if the alternatives are just as appeasing. Though Odin has ruled with a firm hand and a just manner, he is also clearly growing weary in his age. It is only sensible that he wishes to step aside now, offering just a guiding hand, instead of bearing the weight of his duties any longer. Why must the throne fall to the first born son though? Such a thought is one Loki has been mulling around in his mind since this morning, when he heard the news of Thor's assent. It makes him wonder a thing that he has not wanted to wonder for a very long time: is he more capable of ruling Asgard than Thor?

Swiftly Loki turns on his heels and his boots echo across the stone floor as he makes his way to the Hall of Asgard, where he knows his father will be. Surely others should have been consulted before such a shifting decision was made, yet Odin's word came down like an hammer, already complete and unquestioned in its force and might. Of course Thor found little to say against such a decision, he is benefiting from it after all, yet Loki's heart now burns with the idea of seeing if he can turn his father's eye in a different direction. Perhaps not to himself, but at least not to Thor.

Guilt wracks inside of Loki for a moment as he winds his way through the palace, spiraling ever down ornate staircases to reach his objected location. Can he really argue in such a way against his brother, can he really argue against his father? Yes. The resolution in this internal answer startles Loki, yet he holds firmly onto it for it will be his anchor. As dearly as he loves Thor, for he does immensely, he also loves the people of Asgard and Thor is not the king Asgard needs. He is going to speak to his father, try to deter his decision, not because he hates his brother, but because he loves him so much that he must protect him from the heartache he will cause by ascending the throne.

Thor is far too reckless, he does not yet have the clear head needed to rule. Loki's previous thought enters his mind one more. If not Thor, then whom? While Loki knows he possesses a far clearer head, one not filled with heroic and idiotic ideals, his fingers still tingle slightly at the idea of his hand gripping Gungnir. It is not a duty Loki would take lightly, as it already seems like Thor will do. No, he would hold and maintain the power of his forefathers with pride and with the dignity he knows would befitting a true and proper king. As he nears the Hall of Asgard Loki solidifies with himself that while he will urge his father to reconsider his abdication to Thor. Yet he will also not shirk away from the idea of him being a possible alternative.

Loki is startled from his thoughts though as small kitchen boy runs up to him, nearly knocking Loki's legs out from under him as he narrowly avoids crashing into the prince. As the boy straightens up though he manages only a single action, instead of words of apology. His small hand clutches a message and he holds it out for Loki.

“For me?” Loki inquires, as he does not often receive letters, much less ones given in delivery to kitchen boys. Yet the boy nods and Loki takes the letter. Unfolding it, his eyes dart across the few words before he swiftly asks the boy, with more menace than he intends, “Who gave this to you?”

The boy shakes his head in unbeknownst and answers, “It just showed up, as if by magic. It is clearly addressed to you though.”

“Indeed, it is.” Though his tone is still filled with speculation, he finds it in him to smile at the boy. The boy is far more reassured as Loki conjures up a sweet honey cake in his hand and promptly gives it to him. With crumbs already upon his face the boy darts away, leaving Loki to contemplate what has been presented to him. 

In his hand Loki holds the key to everything he has ever wanted and he wants to know who is cruel enough to feed him such lies. Surely the letter cannot be real, the content a fake, since Loki cannot imagine anyone wanting to help him. Especially not a Frost Giant from Jotunheim. With more trepidation than he held before, Loki glances towards the Hall of Asgard. His father waits beyond the boundaries of this hallway, the future of Asgard lies on the tip of his tongue for his words can change history.

Loki's feet, however, lead him out of the palace. His father can wait, Thor can wait, the whole of Asgard can wait. For the possibility of knowing where the Tesseract is in the universe is of far greater importance now.

  
* * * * * * * * * *

  
The icy chill of Jotunheim seeps into Loki's bones, yet he does not shiver. He takes a cautious look around and sees more ruin and desolation than on Svartalfheim. Yet, unlike the Dark Elves, the Frost Giants still occupy their home, at least to Loki's recollection. The sight before him though is making him think otherwise. He dares not call out however, such a thing would surely cause a pillar of ice to come down around him and he has no desire to meet his end here.

He is looking for a new beginning here. Therefore he takes a step forward and cringes slightly as he hears the ice crinkle underfoot. Yet he moves onward, making sure each footstep does not cause the ice underneath to break away entirely into oblivion. He is unsure where he is going, yet the large, tall structure of dark ice in front of him is perhaps a good start. It cannot compare to the shining, golden palace that marks the very center of Asgard, but Loki hopes that it will at least bring him towards the mysterious Jotun who sent him the intriguing message.

The Tesseract. The very thought of it drives Loki to find a more confident foot as he strides, instead of tiptoes, further into Jotunheim. The thought of holding that cube, one that holds so much power, makes his fingers tingle and it is not with the cold. For centuries he has believed it to be lost, cast away into the void of the universe by his father after his attempt to liberate it from the vault. Yet a sliver of him had never given up hope, had never wanted to admit failure in losing such a precious object.

The hold the Tesseract had over Loki began to ebb the moment Odin removed it from Asgard. Therefore he has always know, at least, that the Tesseract is no longer on Asgard. But where then? Even all of his seeking during his imprisonment and even after never yielded him the answer. Without a doubt he is sure that he would be able to feel the Tesseract now if it were on Jotunheim and while his body tingles with anticipation, it does not tingle with the power the Tesseract allowed to enter his body.

The whole of the universe had been at his fingertips, for a brief shinning moment in the bowels of the palace, it had all been his and it was wrongly taken away from him. Now Loki means to take it back, the reason why he is here in this questionable realm. As the high walls of what he can only assume is the shambling palace of the king who holds no real power anymore, Loki stops to calculate his next move. Always think three steps in advance, Loki thinks to himself as his eyes glance upward at the cascading ice cliffs and dangerously pointing frozen stalactites.

“Asgardians are not welcome here,” a deep, hollow voice says as it echoes across the desolate landscape. 

Loki looks around, yet he can see no one. Carefully he responds, “I come not as an Asgardian. I come here merely as another living being of the universe.”

A chuckle resonates around Loki and he finds himself standing a little taller as a massive Jotun steps forth from the ice. It is as if his very being is breaking forth from the ice, so much did the Jotun resemble the milky blue haze around them. For a brief moment Loki feels fear, one that reminds him that he is Asgardian and in lands he is not supposed to be in due to the peace arrangement between his father and the king here, Laufey. He swallows this fear down though as he looks up at the Jotun who stands a great deal taller than him and asks, his voice steady, “Are you the one I should thank for bringing me here?”

“You received our message then?” the Jotun responds, his gravely voice grading in Loki's mind, reminding him of unpleasant reprimands from Odin. 

“Our?” Instantly Loki's eyes dart around and strangely to his relief two other Jotuns emerge from the depths of the ice. He would rather have all of his enemies show themselves rather than fall into a trap. Kindly he offers the three Jotuns a slight smile, the most he can muster at least, and continues, “I'm sure you know it is best I do not linger long...”

The first Jotun remains the only one with a voice, as he cuts Loki off by saying, “Then we will tell you what we know.”

Loki holds back his shock at the abrasive swiftness of the Jotun. “First, if I might ask, why do you want to tell me where the Tesseract is located?”

Loki knows very well that he could ask how they know where the Tesseract is or how they know he desires to have it in his possession once again. Yet these are not questions he necessarily needs answers to right now. In this moment he wants to gauge his opponent. Therefore he maintains a still and confident look as he waits for a response.

“I've never met an Asgardian who was so polite,” one of the other Jotuns comments. 

The first one shakes his head at his companion and then responds to Loki, “We are here to offer you a deal.”

Speculating as much, Loki nods his head and agrees, “Very well, I expect nothing less. What are your terms?”

“You give us the Casket of Ancient Winters and we tell you where the Tesseract is located.”

Loki's lips curl upward in a slight smirk, yet he does not offer these three Jotuns a response. Instead he takes a sidestep away from them, his gaze falling towards his feet as he paces tightly, allowing the crunching of his boots under the ice to fill the space instead of his voice. He means to put them at ill-ease, what he really needs is a moment to think.

The desire for the Tesseract, to have a power equal to Mjolnir and therefore to make him equal to Thor, burns in his veins. Yet the price for even the information of its location is a high one to pay. There is no telling what he will have to do once he knows where the Tesseract is located. If he knows his father at all, and Loki truly believes he does on this account, he knows it will not be easy to gain possession of the Tesseract once knowing where it has been hidden. Pitting this against knowing how hard it will be to remove the Casket of Ancient Winters from the vault, Loki begins to wonder if it is worth it.

It is always worth it, Loki thinks fiercely. For centuries he has not been equal to Thor simply because his brother wields Mjolnir and he holds nothing of power. His own magic, his own abilities, it is all not enough, not compared to Thor with Mjolnir in his hand. Odin has always known that as well, yet he took away the one thing that would have allowed Loki to have a chance to not be superior, but at least have a fighting chance against the shadows he has been living in.

Without a doubt he knows what his answer will be, he knows that he must do everything in his power to try and gain the Tesseract. It is just a matter of how to get the Casket of Ancient Winters out of Asgard without Odin knowing. He might be able to get it out of the vault, even the palace, now with his knowledge, gained after his previous failed attempt with the Tesseract. To get it out of Asgard though, now that is another matter entirely.

Loki pauses in his slight pacing and glances towards the three Jotuns who now look at him with narrow eyes and crossed arms. He maintains his smile as a brilliant idea begins to formulate in his mind. Indeed, he is now thinking three steps in advance, just as his mother has always taught him to do.

It is with a light tone that he finally responds, “I can arrange for the Casket of Ancient Winters to return to Jotunheim.”

The first Jotun looks at Loki with speculation as he asks simply, “How?”

“My guarantee is not enough?”

It is the third Jotun who chuckles this time and responds, “The word of an Asgardian is worthless to us.”

“Then why are you asking for my assistance?”

“Desperation leads all creatures to do what is needed,” the first Jotun responds with grave seriousness. “Do you crave the Tesseract? Then tell us how you will give us the Casket of Ancient Winters.”

“Tell me where the Tesseract is and I will tell you how  _ you _ can get the Casket.”

“Us?” the second Jotun questions, his voice rough with speculation. 

Loki flashes another smug grin their way and begins to walk slightly in front of them once more. Carefully he lays out his plan, caring not of the consequences at this point. The Jotun is right, his desire for the Tesseract is one of a desperate nature. Yet, Loki also believes that he can get not only what he wants from this deal, as well as give the Jotuns what they want, but also somehow manage to ruin the fate of another at the exact same time.

“I will lead you into Asgard, for I know of another route beyond the Bifrost. I can cloak your presence, rendering you invisible to all so that you can enter Odin's Vault undetected. I will ensure that you remain unseen until you are able to return to Jotunheim with the Casket in your hands. All I request is that you allow me a week to prepare.”

“A week?” the third Jotun is quick to ask. “Why so long?” 

“Patience leads to the greatest gratifications.”

The third Jotun scoffs, but the first one silences him quickly. Turning to Loki he responds, “Your magic is known even here in Jotunheim, I trust that you will keep us hidden when we enter Asgard.”

“And I trust that you will tell me where the Tesseract is when I bring you into Asgard.”

“In a weeks time.”

“If that is agreeable to you.”

The first Jotun does not even look at his companions for confirmation before he answers, “It is agreeable.”

To return the Casket of Ancient Winters is a disastrous move, one that will bring war back to Asgard with the Jotuns in control of such a powerful weapon once again, yet Loki has little intention of them actually removing the Casket from Asgard. Such a thought is not spoken though, it is barely a thought as Loki merely bows his head towards the Jotun and says, “You will hear from me then.”

The Jotuns only nod their head in his direction as well before blending once more into their dismal surroundings, turning into the ice that has bound them for centuries. Loki, however, stays still for a moment, waiting until he is sure the Jotuns are completely out of sight. Even with them gone though, Loki can still feel there presence, can still feel eyes upon him, and for that he begins to turn away and go back in the direction he previously came.

The gateway to Jotunheim from Asgard is not far from the palace, much to Loki's surprise. There is a series of waterfalls that can be seen from the training grounds and while Loki became numb to their sight while practicing with magic and dagger, he became more curious after finding the portal to Alfheim in the woods just beyond the city limits. So it was with a less than steady ability that Loki was able to climb along the cliff sides of the waterfalls and find the cave behind them that led him to Jotunheim. Now he walks back to the small crevice of ice that he had stepped forth from when first entering this realm with a new vigor.

Walking through the veil between worlds, Loki's stride does not break as the chill of Jotunheim leaves his bones and the warmth of Asgard envelopes him as he makes the climb back down the waterfall cliffs. The knowledge that in a week he will know where the Tesseract is keeps the smile upon his face and the bounce in his step. The knowledge that in a week Thor's crowning will be utterly ruined leaves him happy in a way that cannot be shown solely on his face. Asgard deserves better and he is going to prove that very soon.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Loki's mind runs rampant with scenarios, with the possibilities of all that can happen today. He played a calm hand in front of the Jotuns, but now as the day of Thor's coronation is upon him, trepidation ripples across his skin. There is a thousand things that can go wrong today. Yet, there is also a glimmer of everything going right today. It is that glimmer that causes Loki to smile slightly as he tightens the vambrace around his forearm.

His armor shines brightly in the firelight that radiates from the braziers littered across his room. He made sure to polish his armor himself; he could have had servants do it for him but today he wanted to make sure it shines brightly and only his hand was capable of accomplishing such a thing. He straightens up now, pulling his shoulders back, and takes a moment to look at his reflection in the mirror. While he knows it matters not what he looks like, for all eyes will be upon Thor today, he still prides himself in the knowledge that he has put such effort into his appearance as well. He will be guiding his mother towards the throne after all, he must look like a true prince in order to lead the queen and without a doubt he looks the part today.

He does not look like a prince about to betray his brother though. It is for Thor's own good, Loki reminds himself as he turns away from the mirror and exits his room. Outside the chaos hits him like a wave of heat from a fire. Rightly so, the halls are crowded with people as he descends the stairs and skirts towards the back reaches of the Hall of Asgard. Yet Loki does not feel satisfaction in knowing that soon these people will be talking of something other than Thor's crowning once his plan is put into action. Instead he merely feels calm and in control as his nerves begin to stabilize, as physical movement counteracts his racing mind.

Loki the quiet solitude of a small corner in the back reaches outside of the hall. Loki takes a deep breath in and closes his eyes as he allows a double of himself to form in Jotunheim. In his mind he can see the icy expanse that greeted him just a week ago. He did not feel the cold then though and he does not feel it now as he waits for the three Jotuns to show themselves.

From the swirling expanse of snow they gradually become visible and Loki greets them, asking, “Are you prepared?”

The Jotun he had first initially met looks at his companions and simply nods his head in assent. With a tilt of his own head, Loki urges them to follow him. From his spot in the palace Loki culminates his magic, his face furrowing slightly at the effort of doing so from such a great distance, but he is able to open the veil between realms. Without question the Jotuns follow his double through the vortex. Though they look around with some speculation at the cave behind the waterfalls, the Jotuns offer Loki a smile for the first time as he leads them to the cliff face and says, “Welcome to Asgard.”

The first Jotun looks at Loki with satisfaction showing in his face and says evenly, “The Tesseract is on Midgard.”

“Midgard?” Loki is unable to hide the surprise in his question as it slips out. 

“The location of it is secured, by Midgardian standards that is,” the Jotun continues, “so it should not be difficult for you to find. Look in the place they call the Mojave Desert, you will find the Tesseract there.”

“My thanks to you.”

“You will have our thanks when we leave this accursed realm and return home with what is rightfully ours.”

“Then let us carry on.”

Loki slowly comes back to himself in the Hall of Asgard, reeling slightly as he continues to project himself while still cloaking his double and the Jotuns as they make their way towards the low reaches of the palace. They will reach no opposition as they go to Odin's vault. It will only be when they are within a hands breadth of the Casket of Ancient Winters that Loki will allow for them to be seen. If he times it correctly, his father will sense their presence right in the middle of the ceremony, bringing Thor's coronation to an abrupt halt.

“Another!” 

Loki hears Thor before he sees him, demanding another drink as he strides into the corridor outside the Hall of Asgard. The brazier crackles and Thor's footfall echoes loudly in the emptiness of the antechamber. Of course he is already flush with drink, Loki thinks, he is prone to celebrating far before the deed is done. This slight flaw does not perturb Loki though, not as he thinks of what will come all too soon.

Summoning his horned helmet to adorn his head, Loki then leaves the small corner he had paused in. The shadow of his helmet darkens the wall in front of him as he moves. Yet it is not darkness he offers his brother as he sees him standing tall, waiting to enter the Hall of Asgard. Instead Loki offers Thor a smile he knows his brother will believe to be genuine as he takes his place beside him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, you can find me on [Tumblr](http://thegirlwhowaitedtoavenge.tumblr.com/).


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